Hello, My Name Is Amy and I’m A Dream-Crusher

If I had been Steve Jobs’ mother, the world would be a very different place.

There would be no i-anything.

Little Stevie: Mom, I’m going to need some old electronic gear to play with in the kitchen because I’m going to create a phone I can put in my pocket that has no cords and is more powerful than any computer you’ve seen.

Me: No you’re not. The mess is making me want to lose my mind. Isn’t that going to cost a lot? Where is the money coming from to fund that?

I think the secret to successful entrepreneurs and artists is that they have at least one parent who is a dream-builder/nurturer. In our family, that’s my husband. He’s been spending his evenings starting things on fire accidentally as he figures out how to build a robot. I serve in the very important role of “dream-crusher” or, as I like to refer to it, “reality-dweller.”

Two days ago, I entered the dining room and it had a suspicious smoky haze. My normally mild-mannered husband announced with great amusement that he had inadvertently plugged his electronic thingys(technical term) in backwards. Flames happened.

My husband is a much better home-school mom than I am.

We’re basically Jack Sprat and his wife. Between the two of us, the platter is clean. There is creativity and there is order.

So, tell me. Which one are you?  Fellow dream-crusher or dream-nurturer?

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