“What do you want to be when you grow up?”

It was nice outside and I decided to take Christopher Milo out, so I did just that. I was sitting just outside of my door, and Milo goes straight in for the grass. My lawn is green. Woah, wait a sec, not thaaaat green, but it issss greener than average. All you could see is a white thing moving in the middle of my front yard. It was hilarious.

Three kids came running towards Milo, and as happy as can be, Milo got up and flapped his tail everywhere. The kids were amazed. If you haven’t seen what Ch. Milo looks like, he’s an off-white curly ball with flappy ears, kind of dog. He’s a mix of poodle and some other breed. He’s the type of dog that everyone wants to pet, but not too much because it may be a bit of a turn off if your fingers get tangled in his curls. Ha.

Anyway, these kids were petting Milo as if they’ve never seen a dog before. I dunno why, guys, but it was something about that afternoon that made my whole week better.

The youngest of little girls came to sit on the front steps with me and asked me so many questions. From what is my name, to how old am I, and I even got asked if I had a ‘Prince.’ (lol) It was so cute. She said I was the prettiest Princess on the block. (I’ll take that any day!)

She started to talk a lot, and I tried not to sound like the creepy neighbor, so I let her do all the talking. After she got quiet, I asked her what she wanted to be when she grew up. Assuming that she loved Milo, I asked if she wanted to be a veterinarian. She looked at me with some confused look, as if she was noticing how much of a loser I was. She flipped her hair and said, “Well, I don’t know what exactly that is, but I really want to be a Princess.”

My heart seriously melted. She went on.

“Mommy says I have to work really hard to get what I want and to reach my goals. So I’m trying really hard to be a Princess when I get older.”

Mind you guys, she told me she was 4. FOUR.

She kept on going on and on and on about what she needed to do to achieve her goals to become a princess, but I couldn’t concentrate anymore. I just kind of shut her out.

Growing up, I always knew what I wanted. I always knew exactly where I wanted to be at and with who. My whole life, I had everything written down to the last letter of the alphabet. I never had the chance to imagine being a Princess. I really never gave myself that chance.

Have I not lived my life to the fullest? Have I been too serious with life? Have I been playing a little too serious and by the exact rules a little too much?

Coming to America, changed everything for my family and I, guys. I don’t ever remember wanting to be something like a Princess. I was raised to be someone like a lawyer, a doctor, architects, and teachers. Ever since I can remember, I knew I wanted a good life. I guess being someone like those people meant having a good life.

“What do you want to be?” I snapped out of my depressing thought and I looked at her and smiled. I wanted to be like her. I wanted to happy and full of life. I wanted to be innocent again. I wanted to be 4 again.

“A surgeon,” I said. And secretly I hated myself for not giving her such a beautiful answer like she gave me.

“Woaaaahh! A Princess Surgeon! Oh yeah, girl. They’re gonna need some of you in the castle hospital.”

I laughed. I laughed because she was so cute. I laughed because I felt lame. I laughed because she was perfect. I laughed because I was sad.

I want to do so much in my life. I want to achieve so much, but I don’t want to take everything too serious anymore. I’ve been taught to be serious, focused and determined. Maybe I can still be that without being so stiff.

So WWDD, you ask? —> Live, guys. Live. Simply live. If you’re like me, ‘too focused’, relax. 

I’ll see you soon!


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s