Believe it or not, despite all my belly-aching, I do think parenting can be fun. One of the most rewarding aspects of being a mom is watching Belle and Milo evolve from cooing, constantly-pooping babes into actual people. People with tastes and preferences and predilections.

We know we shouldn’t, but my husband and I will often, after the kids go to bed, try to  project them into the future—pinpointing their current talents and surmising how they could use them to make a living.

 “Milo is getting really good at beatboxing,” I’ll say.

“What in God’s name is beatboxing?” My husband asks.

“You know,” I scramble for my laptop and click to YouTube. We watch a video of a seventeen-year-old girl using her voice as an instrument (a rapid succession of rapping, bleating and thrumming, all coming from her larynx).

 “That’ll get him far,” he says.

“Well, he’s also showing a real aptitude for…swinging. And, uh, the marbles and track we got him for his birthday? He can make those babies go.”

Belle, on the other hand, is great at shrieking. And throwing herself to the floor. She’s also an accomplished dresser of dollies. All three of which might combine to make one amazing…er…Project Runway contestant.

In all seriousness, Milo and Belle do possess some charming qualities and are smart as whips. And, if nothing else, the dumb exercise of trying to decide what four- and six- year-olds are going to be when they grow up shows us its futility.

For now, we’ll just be content with the little slackers we’re raising and revel in their proficiency for filling their pockets with rocks and blowing fuzz off dandelions.

Those things, after all, are what being a kid is all about. Not devising strategies for how to support your parents after they retire. Unless, of course, your parents spent their younger years coaching you in beatboxing and primping you to become the best (and most obnoxious) Project Runway contestant America has ever seen.