Since finishing college, I’ve taken great pride in filling out the ‘occupation’ section on forms.
Even though there are incredibly crazy, stressful days, I truly enjoy being a social worker. I like that my job entails talking to people, a skill I apparently excel at since my grandfather has nicknamed me ratchet jaw. Despite their cranky attitudes and explosive displays, I enjoy working with my students. Under all that gruff exterior that they show the world, hides a group of great kids waiting to make their appearance, and I get to help them find their way out. Plus, nights, weekends, holidays, and summers off help. 🙂 (Sidebar ~ I’m being forced to return to work tomorrow. Only 190 workdays until next summer break….not that I’m counting or anything!)
As I’m sure you know, unless you live under a rock, which you don’t because you’re on the internet right now, there is another new heir to the royal throne. (Not that it really matters because that ol’ lady refuses to give it up, greedy much!) I’m not a royal watcher. I didn’t get up for the wedding. I don’t run out and buy the latest Kate dress knock-off. I didn’t join a baby naming pool. But sometimes curiosity gets the best of you.
The other day, Twitter notified my that they royal baby’s birth certificate had been officially filed. This I had to see.
Occupation – Prince/Princess of the United Kingdom. Nothing, NOTHING, you could write down, no other occupation measures up. ‘Oh, you’re a brain surgeon. That’s cute. I’m a princess.’