Honey, you need a more secure career…

(Rewritten on January 17th 2010)

With my gymnast Barbie in one hand, and my grade two report card held firmly in the other, I run around the house in a sparkly spandex leotard, shouting “I’m ready! I’m ready! Where can I join the circus?” My mother, pressed flat against the living room wall to avoid a collision, promptly halts my bee-like circuit and says

“Andréa Lucie Peters, how many times do I have to tell you not to run inside? And take last year’s Halloween costume off right now, or next time I do the wash it’ll disappear for ever!”

Ouch. Not such a good start to the summer vacations. Immediately I stop in my tracks, and can tell that she awaits some sort of brilliant explanation from me. Judging by her raised eyebrows – it better come soon. I rack my brains for something clever to say, but my head is a whirl wind of useless snippets of ideas. Two minutes pass, and I can’t stand the silence anymore so I blurt out something like
“Mama, Mama! I got all A’s on my report card today so that means that I must really be getting smarter and Miss Carter my gym teacher said nobody does somersaults as well as me in all four of her classes! At recess I can stay hanging upside down from the monkey bars the longest and I go the fastest on the swings so will you drive me to a chief clown right now?!!”

I gasp for air, and from mom’s startled expression, I start to wonder if she noticed I forgot to say please… Another long silence goes by before she takes me by the hand, and says these five little words that are never good news “Andréa, we need to talk.”

Triple poop. That’s a definite No for the circus. Slumping in an armchair, I expect the usual introductory talks about how much of a “safety hazard” it is to leave my cow print rubber boots laying in the entryway, or why I should seriously stop watering her plants with orange juice because despite what I think, it does not help them grow. Instead, my mother cuts to the chase and begins throwing around big words like “life opportunities” and “retiring pension plans” in the conversation.

“There’s something you need to understand. Daddy and I work very hard to provide everything you and your brothers need. This means that even if the money we make isn’t that good, it’s at least enough to feed, clothe, and give you a home. We get an honest pay for an honest day of work, you know? But these circus people, they’re not our kind of people, okay?” I don’t really get it, but I think it best at the time to nod anyway while she goes on

“Honey, you need a more secure career. Wanting to join the circus was okay as long as I thought it was just in your imaginary world, but it’s starting to go too far, now. You really need to let that dream go and focus on doing well at school, so you can have a good job when you grow up. Something that’s more important than swinging off a trapeze, alright?”

Frantically, I try to interrupt this horrific talk and say “You don’t understand, Mama! I’m meant to be in the circus, it’s my destiny!” But she doesn’t look convinced.

“Andréa”, she warns, “I don’t want you to talk about joining the circus anymore. Do I make myself clear?” I nod again.
“How about becoming a doctor? Or a lawyer? Think about it, it wouldn’t even matter there that you’re so accident prone. Isn’t that great?!”

Unsure as to why I’m supposed to feel better by hearing this, I start tearing up. Mom pats me on the head and gives me a tissue, saying in a motherly tone how it’s not the end of the world because I won’t even remember it the day I get married; that it’s just a silly dream job anyway.

I hiccup and protest “But Mama, what I am gonna do with my life now, if I can’t join the circus?” She takes off towards the kitchen and says over her shoulder

“Well, you could certainly begin by putting away your rubber boots, don’t you think?”