She just asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. She had us write about it, actually. My paper went something like this:
“When I grow up, I want to be a mommy. I think I’d be good at it. I’d like lots of children.”
Maybe there was more to it than that. I don’t remember. I turned in my paper, with the requisite poorly-drawn picture to illustrate. Instead of marking it with the usual red check-mark and smiley face, Miss Dixon called me to her desk.
“What else?”
