A few months back I was expressing to my children at the dinner table how proud I was of their ability to write well. In fact, both of my kids can write and seem to have taken after their old man.
At this point, my son speaks up. "Actually, dad, when I grow up, I would love to be a writer like you, only successful."
My wife: "What do you mean? Your dad's successful. He's had fifteen books published and publishes articles every month."
Son: "I know . . . but I mean, I want to be able to make money at it."
Wife: (Silence)
Me: (Silence . . . then one solitary tear scrolling down my cheek)
Son: "Dad, can you pass those lima beans?"
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