My two boys have big dreams (literally). From the first time they heard the term Sumo Wrestlers they were hooked. We were flipping through a children’s atlas and there was a little picture over a map of Japan.
“What’s that?” they asked.
“A Sumo Wrestler” I replied.
Now, they both would like to be Sumo Wrestlers. My oldest explained his reasoning, “I can be fat and wear my underwear to work.” My 3 year old would simply like to punch people. Oh, he also wants to be an airplane pilot. My Husband explained that he’s not sure that he can be so big and be a pilot. Peek-A-Boo (the 3 year old) said that he would just be a sumo wrestler then poop so he’d no longer be fat. Then, he could go fly a plane.
I could explain to them all the reasons they couldn’t or shouldn’t follow these dreams. I could explain that in a year or a month or a day they probably won’t want to be Sumo wrestlers at all. Shouldn’t I plant them firmly in reality? I could easily yank them down from the clouds and dash their little dreams.
But, I won’t.
I want them to know that their mama always believes in them. If they want to dream, I say sounds great! Let’s find out more about Sumo wrestlers or pilots or fire fighters or whatever! Let’s fly our imaginary airplanes and stomp around like wrestlers. Let’s enjoy this moment when you are so innocent and protected that you don’t care how far-out-there your dream is or even what it takes to get there.
For now I tell them to dream and dream big; dream huge even. Maybe, just maybe, they’ll get to live those dreams.