I want to make it magical

My children's lives.

When I was growing up my Mom and Dad made things special. We weren't wealthy, but we never knew. They had so many ideas. Homemade McBuck meals instead of McDonalds. Summer Olympic games complete with medals. Graveyards with hand painted messages on each stone. After school jaunts to caves or mines with as many friends could fit in the car. Neighborhood parties with strung up donuts and bobbing for apples.

My dad took a job at the airlines so he could show his five children the country. I remember being called out of school just so we could catch a flight to San Diego or New York. Sometimes he didn't even know where he was taking us until we arrived at the airport.

My mother helped us plan talent shows. She read to us individually every night. She baked. She sewed. She wrote stories with us as the central characters (in animal form of course) and songs. She writes such pretty songs.

My Mom was always making things, creating a beautiful world, while my Dad planned adventures to see it.

I worry that I don't have it in me. That my head, my silly brain, isn't full of enough ideas to make my children feel like they are living in a beautiful, impossible world for the few short years they have before real life teaches them to be cynical.

I'm lucky to live in the time I do. A web of amazing ideas at my fingertips. Brilliant people share their ideas everyday and I can find them. I can do my best for my Phinny and the children that will hopefully follow. I will make them superheros.

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