Tonight at dinner, Wyatt announced he'd like to be President.
I knew this day would come; you know, the one when he figured out how he could expand his bossiness beyond this house and leave his mark on the free world. I measured my reply carefully.
He smiled that smug smile.
I smiled that fake one back because hey, these days when he says my decisions aren't nice, I can laugh them off. But if he's President? Well, that's another story, isn't it?
"Wow," I said again. "What do you think the president does?"
Wyatt replied, with all confidence, "he flies Air Force One!"
Ahhhh, now we're getting somewhere. I exhaled. I explained that actually the President merely rides on Air Force One but a pilot actually flies it. An Air Force pilot, to be specific.
"You mean, the United States Air Force?" he replied, with a dubious expression.
"Yes, the United States Air Force."
"You mean, like the same one Daddy works for?"
"The very same one."
"Oh, well then I think I want to be in the Air Force and fly jumbo jets."
Whew. That was close. Now I just have to break the news to Jeff.