...a naked dancer!
Wait. That wasn't me. That was Thing One. Aged about 5, at Disneyland. It was so hot that year, and she was dancing around our hotel room in the buff, jumping on the bed. So free, so happy. "Mummy, when I grow up, I want to be a NAKED DANCER!"
You dream of your children wanting to be vets, doctors, lawyers... I tell you, that one brought me down to earth with a bump.
My elder sister, when she was little, desperately wanted to be a pathologist. Which, yes, is slightly perturbing when you think about it. "When I'm a grown-up, I want to cut up dead bodies...". Sweet. But she only wanted to do that so she would be our father's boss, so not quite as creepy as it sounds.
(If you want creepy, we spent our childhood in hospital and research labs, one of my main childhood memories is of a huge pickled human foetus in a jar of formaldehyde).
Himself wanted to work on submarines. I'm sure there are all sorts of things you can read into that,
so I won't bother to point out the phallic symbolism.
I was much more prosaic. I wanted to fly. And talk to animals. Oh, and be invisible, and have supersonic hearing. A sort-of "SuperDolittle". Failing that, I wanted to be a teacher. I'm a pre-school teacher now, so you can guess which superpowers failed to arrive. I'm still disappointed.
Still, I did fulfil my childhood ambitions, of bossing people around, having my word be law, and never having to grow up and stop playing with finger-paint... so that's alright then. What, did you think people who worked with children had loftier ideals? Pfft.