Setting a Record
"Mama?" my nine-year-old son asked. "Do you think I'll ever be in the Guinness Book of World Records?"
"Um, I don't know," I said. "Maybe. What record do you want to set?"
He shrugged. "I don't know."
"Well, Bubba, if you want to set a record, you have to set a goal and work towards it. Otherwise nothing is going to happen."
He thought about that. "I'm going to build at 10,000 foot building and be the first person to jump off with a parachute."
"I'm not sure that's such a great idea, Bubba. Jumping off a building is a recipe for disaster. You'd better think of something else."
He did. "I've got it, Mama. I'm going to set the record for causing the most destruction with my hands in two minutes!"
I looked at the kid, wondering where the heck he came up with that. "Oh yeah, Bubba? If you do, I'm going to end up in the Guinness Book of World Records as the Grouchiest Mama on the Planet!"
"Um, I don't know," I said. "Maybe. What record do you want to set?"
He shrugged. "I don't know."
"Well, Bubba, if you want to set a record, you have to set a goal and work towards it. Otherwise nothing is going to happen."
He thought about that. "I'm going to build at 10,000 foot building and be the first person to jump off with a parachute."
"I'm not sure that's such a great idea, Bubba. Jumping off a building is a recipe for disaster. You'd better think of something else."
He did. "I've got it, Mama. I'm going to set the record for causing the most destruction with my hands in two minutes!"
I looked at the kid, wondering where the heck he came up with that. "Oh yeah, Bubba? If you do, I'm going to end up in the Guinness Book of World Records as the Grouchiest Mama on the Planet!"
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