I was looking at a book about the moon with six year-old Jacey this afternoon.
“Ms. Becky, do you want to be an astronaut when you grow up?”
I smiled. What an adorable question. Six year-olds ask questions like that because they don’t know any better.
And then it occurred to me: why does that have to be a silly question? Why wouldn’t I want to be an astronaut?
Because I’ve put a limit on my dreams for myself. No longer can I dream about wild, adventurous, outer space type things–I better stick to what I know and I better not plan to be much more than what I already am or what makes sense for me to be. I’m in a box and it’s silly to think I’ll go outside of it.
I want to see myself like Jacey sees me. Like anything’s possible.
