For a few weeks now my college teacher friend had asked if I would talk to her class about my career in IT to give them a flavour of career prospects in the wonderful world of computing. After various lame excuses I eventually caved and went along to inspire a bunch of teens who hopefully wouldn’t think I was boring. I got very into the swing of things and none of them fell asleep. In fact, they even asked questions (mostly revolving around “How much do you earn?”). I think it was a success and my friend confirmed the next day they had found it interesting. Phew!
It got me thinking about how hard it is for kids to think about careers and wondered what my own Little Z might like to be when he grows up. He hasn’t whacked out an amazing masterpiece on the piano yet or shown any signs of breaking records to become the youngest Microsoft certified so the jury is still out on his career aspirations.
From careful observation though I have thought of some things my 3 year old could be when he grows up. Here are just some of them…
An Architecht / Builder…
If a piece of furniture can be moved in our house at the moment then it will be moved faster than the blink of an eye and become part of his “House”. I now spend my days navigating around our nest of coffee tables all arranged to build an indoor den perfect for little people that can scurry about on all fours quickly. It’s like watching the Magneto of household items shifting everything about constantly. His skills are currently limited to building for people 3 foot and under. Failed attempts at squeezing my 5 foot self under a coffee table has confirmed this.
A Parkour Artist…
You know, the guys that seem to run up buildings and high structures and then leap about all nimble and Tigger like. Little Z would be perfect at this. His usual structures of choice for parkour-ing are the sofa, the park climbing frame and slide and the kitchen units. If it’s climbable then its leapable, often without any kind of fear and without any checks for a safe landing spot. I’ve discovered over the last year that its possible for a mid-30 something year old to almost have a frequent number of heart attacks whilst catching a preschooler that thinks he’s something kind of bouncing ball.
Little Z will now give absolutely everyone a hair cut, every week. Whether you ask for one or not. I suppose being proactive about grooming is a pretty good trait to have and shows initiative. It’s usually when you’re about to make yourself comfy on the couch though. A towel or any kind of random blanket will be thrown around your neck and you hear the familiar sound of a 3 year old making hair trimmer sound effects. The haircut will then follow, mostly “freestyled”. If you’re lucky your hair will also be combed for you afterwards. You are then charged anywhere between £1.50 and £20 for what is essentially the same haircut every single time. With a remote control.
A Time teller
Is that a career? I’m not sure. But even before Little Z owned a watch he could magically tell time by looking down at his bare wrist. Like a cute small walking version of the Big Ben. Times can be pretty random though. I’m sure it was “Twenty o’clock” a few days ago. Time telling frequency has increased drastically ever since we got him a real watch.
Little Z is obsessed with all things medical, particularly his little doctor kit. As with his barbering skills, he will whisk out all the little gadgets from his doctors bag and methodically take everyone’s blood pressure, inject them with something random, check their pulse and have a good look in their ears. One load of guests a few days ago got additional checks in the form of having their reflexes tested, on both knees. The group of 4 politely obliged as they all tried to natter away to each other simultaneously. As Little Z completed his investigations and packed away his paraphernalia, my brother inquired about the diagnosis he had come to. After a seconds pause Little Z concluded, “I think they died”.
Maybe we need to try lure him down the path of his Mummy and Daddy and try a career in IT.