A Freudian-Flamenco Fable


There’s a lady in my neighborhood who regularly asks the children playing in our cul-de-sac, "And what do you want to be when you grow up?" Their answers seem to vary from week to week. One week I’ll be out front pruning my roses and hear answers like "I wanna be a teacher, like my mom" or "I wanna be a nurse." Next week when I’m transplanting geraniums I’ll hear "I wanna be a movie star" or "I wanna be like some...

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