Flashback attack

Whenever I'm home, I tend to do some major purging of my room, mostly of Clothes I've Had Since Seventh Grade, a process known as Stop Telling Yourself You Can Make Wallets Out of Old Jeans (although I have made dog toys out of them, which proved to be quite unpopular with the only dog in the house). I also indulge in some major naval-gazing by pulling out old school projects and reminiscing about a younger, more innocent, creative, and cute me. In doing so while home last week, I stumbled upon a treasure in the form of a Second Grade Memory Book. The book was in an envelope that said DO NOT OPEN UNTIL 2005, 2015. 2015 was written underneath 2005 in my mom's handwriting. I opened it anyway because the sacredness of 2005 already passed, and typed print usually trumps written.  In the envelope were my most memorable moments of second grade, written and drawn in my own sloppy hand. I learned many things about my 2nd grade experience, like the fact that my drawing skills peaked around that time and have only degenerated since. I also learned about what I wanted to be when I grew up, which is something that interests me because I'm still trying to figure that out. Near the end of the book, however, I found one particularly enlightening passage:

"When I grow up I want to be an illustrator because i love to drawe [silent 'e's are confusing, ok?] and a mom with kids. I will cook lots. And when I'm tired, my husband should take me out to eat, I don't care how tired he is."

At this point, I was reading out loud to my mom, but had to stop because we were laughing so hard. My mom especially found it difficult to keep it together and continued giggling uncontrollably for a good minute. After we laughed ourselves to the point of near-asphyxiation, I read on:

 "And I want to be a basketball player and play all the time."

That's where my passage ended. Damn, how things have changed.

Conclusion: My mother and the Chicago Bulls were my biggest inspirations in the 2nd grade.