Legal career?

Maria called me last Wednesday evening on my way home from work. She talked excitedly about her day. All was going well over the telephone wires until she asked me if she could come to work with me for National Bring your Child to Work Day. 
Huh? I had not heard anything about this day being Thursday. I had a conference to attend and work to complete. It fell on a bad day; and besides, she just brought it up to me (could she really have been excited for weeks to come to my work as she alleged?)! I told her I didn’t think I could swing it. 

Tears, lots of tears. 

She had a rough week with her crazy allergies. And tears. I couldn’t stand it. I caved and told her that I could take her to work with me in the morning but then she would have to stay home and hang with Morgan. She was thrilled. 

We dropped off Mario in the morning (he thought we were heading to the doctor’s office – little white lie) and headed to High Street. Ri had on her black boots and vest. She looked more stylish than me (not too hard to accomplish). 

We had to head to an 8:30 am meeting. By 8:45, she was begging to go up to my office so she could play on the computer. I made her stay and endure the pain of the infamous “meeting” until 9:10 and then I let her go up to my office. She loved the swipe badge she had to use to get in the office and took every opportunity she had to use it.

We went to Starbucks for a morning beverage after my meeting and then she went to town on cleaning my bookcases – a much-needed task to complete. While she was sorting through binders of junk from 1998 she posed a question: “since its bring your “child” to school day, we should really bring Mario, too. He would be so pumped up, mom.”

Always looking out for her little bro.

So we picked Mario up at his lunch time and took him back to my work. He was pumped. Maria taught him how to use the swipe card and showed him where all my candy was stashed. 


They played in my office and continued to clean. Maria wanted me to sit in another office far away but Mario wanted me to stay. I answered questions about what books to keep and toss and posed legal hypotheticals to them. Mario was intrigued with the hypotheticals; Ri not so much. She was wondering about lunch. We decided to get lunch downstairs at the cafe – they had 50% off pizzas, which Ri knew would make me smile. They wanted to eat in my office so we trekked back upstairs and dug into our discounted pizzas. After another half hour of watching me answer email and research, they were ready to call it a day. 

“Can we go home now” they both pleaded. 

They didn’t last as long as I thought they would but I give them credit for trying. My next career will be much more exciting as a park ranger in Yosemite…

I dropped them off at the house to Morgan and gave them a writing assignment: write a paragraph about whether you think you’d like to be a lawyer when you grow up.

I came home to two paragraphs: one from Ri and one from Mario. They couldn’t have had more different take-aways.


I think Mario was more intrigued with the notion of having his own office and being able to boss people around than actually being a lawyer; although he was intrigued with managing a “case file.” Ri was definitely not a fan of meetings; she still has bad memories of her last “bring your kid to school” experience three years ago where she wrote a poem titled “meetings are boring, boting, boring.” But she loved the perks of an office setting: free food (actually, she didn’t realize that me and others stocked the fridge) and jumbo post-it notes at your beckon call. 

Only time will tell what influence this day had on their future careers. I’m perfectly happy if they choose to run faraway from the legal profession or if they choose to embrace justice. I just want them to be as happy as they were when we were in the car driving to my office that morning. 

Future careers

It came to me last night. Maria is going to be a lawyer and Mario is going to be an actor.

I took the kids upstairs last night to get them ready for bed. On the way up, I asked Mario if he gave Grandma and Peepaw a kiss and hug when they left that afternoon. He looked away from me as he muttered the word “yeah” and I could see a little grin. I repeated my question and asked him to tell me the truth. He looked at me and explained that he forgot. As he explained, he tried to jump from the bed to hug me. I stepped back and told him “no playing” until we talked. He fell to the ground and looked up at me with pathetic, watery eyes and cried “I can’t believe you wouldn’t hug me. My own mother wouldn’t hug me!”
Maria swooped in like Superwoman and started at me.
“Mom, how could you be so mean to Mario? All he wanted was to see his mom when he got home and you won’t even hug him?!”
I explained to Ms. Justice that I just wanted Mario to understand that he needs to appreciate all he gets from his family and make sure he says thank you to people. Maria started it up again:
“He did say thank you, mom. He even hugged them earlier in the day. But he couldn’t kiss them because they left too quickly. He would have ran out and grabbed them if he knew they were leaving but he was upstairs cleaning his room for you.”
I knew that was an exaggeration, which Maria has gotten very good at lately. Adding one little, additional fact to seal the deal. Meanwhile, Mario stood to the side of the room looking completely dejected. I walked up to him and said “I love you pumpkin. I just want you to appreciate all you have. Now give me a hug.” As I reached out to wrap my arms around him, he backed away. I could see him start to smile but he held it back.
“I won’t hug you now. You wouldn’t even let me hug you earlier so I won’t hug you now.”
He looked away towards the wall and I am almost sure he was smiling. He does this so I will keep going after him and beg him to let me hug him.
When I walked away, he faked a little, muffled cry. I walked back and wrapped my arms around him. He wiggled around. I continued to hug him and kiss him. He finally gave in and let me hug him without restraint. He eventually looked up at me, brushed the hair out of my face, looked at me with a serious look, and said “love you, mom” just like actors I used to watch on the Guiding Light soap opera.
Maria joined in the hug. As she leaned over me, she explained “we just want to be perfect for you and that’s hard to do all the time so you need to understand that and not get so upset.” Just like a trial advocate who taught me in law school.
Heaven help me.