It's great watching the kids grow up and discover how to do things like read, write, make "magic potions" or put together Indiana Jones Lego sets. I watch and help and wonder when/if they will discover that they have a real talent for something like singing or painting or French or piano or soccer or skiing.
It's OK if they don't; I'm not trying to raise the next Bode Miller or Carrie Underwood here. I'm happy if they are happy. And so far they are happy pretending they are chihuahuas or fairies or Indiana Jones.
It's just that at age 43 I still wonder every day if today's THE DAY I'm going to discover I'm really talented at _______. Fill in the blank, cause truly it could be anything. Although I've ruled out ballerina, American Idol singer and Rembrandt-style painter. But everything else is fair game.
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