When I was a very little girl, I wanted to grow up to be a Daddy. Gender was of no concern- my own father had assured me that he had once been a little girl, until he'd managed to kiss his elbow. If I could manage the same feat I, too, could make the transformation into boyhood. Limber as my budding grey matter was, I simply followed the logical path from elbow-kissing to eventual Daddy-hood. And as we all know, it is way more awesome to be a Daddy than a Mommy; mommies are around all day making us do tedious things like pick up our rooms and eat all our vegetables, whereas Daddies only show up at special times like right before bed and the weekends. Obviously being a Daddy was where it was at.
I never did manage to kiss my elbow, mind you, and I found evidence that my father had, in fact, spent his entire life as a boy (no such thing as photo-shop back in the fifties, Dad...) so I was eventually forced to relinquish my dreams of Daddy-hood. In their place, these days, are nascent thoughts about perhaps enabling someone else's journey to Daddy-hood.
But he'll have to kiss my elbow first.
What a nice post. Your made up holiday posts are always grand.
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