Why would a parent keep every object their child ever made? Every finger painting and stick-figure drawing? Every lopsided clay pot and every out-of-focus photograph? For many reasons I guess – nostalgia, affection. But for some it may be that in their most subconscious (or not so subconscious) minds they believe their child is special – so special that everything they create will be an artifact to their eventual greatness. Every page your child writes will be anthologized and studied, for what are the building blocks of genius?

Where should a person dream too big, if not in their wishes for their child?

Am I setting myself up for disaster (emotionally speaking) when I have these conceptions? I say conceptions, as opposed to expectations, because it is not necessarily what I expect, but rather, what I hope for.

We’re not rich, but children of far lesser means have grown to be people who’ve changed the world. Abraham Lincoln comes to mind.

When I was 9, I attended Hebrew school, mostly in preparation for my bar mitzvah. (I don’t know at what age a precocious child becomes an obnoxious kid, but I was that kid.) We were discussing some point or other, and I was speaking on behalf of the non-literal interpretation of the old testament (though I obviously never would have put it that way).

This line of discussion led to where this line of inquiry can only lead - to the question of the existence of God at all.

I remember my rabbi saying, well, ultimately it’s a question of faith (and I respected his candor towards a kid he was very likely annoyed by). He added, you must remember that Moses also questioned his faith.

I said, you just compared me to maybe the most important person in the bible…I’m not Moses, I’m just a twelve year old boy (I think he appreciated my candor).

Yes, he said. But Moses was just a twelve-year boy once also. He wasn’t born “Moses.” He was born the son of slaves and grew to become the most revered man in Judaism.

That’s a pretty cool story.