A summary of the (long) conversation in our car yesterday concerning what my children want to be when they grow up:
Sam, after nailing down exactly how old you have to be to be president (and being unable to contain his surprise that I was, in fact, that age, but NOT president), proclaimed that he wanted to be president when he grows up.
Hear that? My baby’s going to be president!
Jack briefly considered being president as well. But then Sam spoke some wise words (“No one tells you want you can be. They don’t decide for you. You decide.”), and Jack decided he wants to be a chameleon.
Quinn is pretty sure he wants to be a train, but he can’t decide if he’s going to be Percy or Murdoch. What he is sure of is that whichever one he chooses not to be, his non-presidential mom will have to be.
To sum up:
Sam: President of these United States
Jack: A lizard that can change colors at will.
Quinn: Something even more insane than what Jack came up with.