Being the President of Finland still seems to have some pull. Yesterday, H, the boy genius – both self-proclaimed and encouraged by parents – surprised me right in the middle of a nice bike ride to the grocery store.
“When I’m big…”
I smiled because I like these stories because I still play them in my head myself.
“…and I’ve moved to Finland…”
This caught me by surprise. But, a pleasant one.
“… I think I want to become the President…”
I was still smiling, and, at the same time, feeling two warm waves of emotions. One, my son wants to be the president of Finland so the boy obviously seems to have some ambition. No slacker. Nice!
Two, I would be the father of the President. Maybe there’s a memoir right there?
And three, I remembered being in the sixth grade and having a chat with the school nurse after my check-up, and her telling me that I was such a smart little boy that I’d certainly grow up to be the president one day.
Well, that was her dream, not mine.
I also made a mental note that H is a native-born Finnish citizen, a requirement the Finns have for their presidents. For his other country, Sweden, the options are more narrow because he can’t become the King of Sweden.
Not without a revolution, anyway, and I’m not going to encourage that.
“… but I’d also like to be known for my inventions.”