You’d have to check with our son to get his take on things, but I was never one to have him cast as my “mini-me”.
Never had him even audition.
Always had it in mind that he’d develop into a “maxi-him”.
Super-sized “Maxi-him”.
I had been led to believe that was my calling as a father.
We were blessed to share some interests and some passions and some concerns and even more memories. Possibly more than I remember bringing along with me from my childhood.
But if my life hasn’t turned out to be the epic I had always worked towards dreamed about, don’t want to saddle him with having to ease my unworthy mind by taking care of that for me vicariously.
And I should know that whatever it was that worked for me might not for him. Whatever didn’t might.
It’s a crap-shoot.
“Mini-me”.
Kind of insulting, actually.
And whatever I really do think about me?
At least that’s not him.
He is.
And he’s doing just fine as him.
Maybe better than I did as me.
He might have done as well being me as I did, and I don’t know that I could cut it as well at being him as he has seemed to master it.
I dunno.
At least he’s not me.
Or even a pallid facsimile.
“Mini-me”.
Don’t care who the hell you either are or think you are.
You don’t need one.
At least that’s not him.
And he’s doing just fine as him.
Maybe better than I did as me.
He might have done as well being me as I did, and I don’t know that I could cut it as well at being him as he has seemed to master it.
I dunno.
Or even a pallid facsimile.
Don’t care who the hell you either are or think you are.
You don’t need one.
