May my children have the strength to forgive those who treat them poorly. And may those who treat them poorly be granted understanding of their actions. And then may that understanding make them be driven blind with grief, and plunge them into insanity and despair forever.
May my children have the skill and good fortune to become wealthy, and the wisdom to see that wealth won’t make them happy. And then – and I can’t stress this next step enough – decide they should give said wealth to their parents.
May they be healthy. And smart. And wise. And kind. And attractive. And funny. And clever. And fit. And gracious. And charismatic. And stylish without being trendy. And quick with perfect rejoinders. And generous. And able to figure out the perfect gratuity in their heads. And… you know what? Physically and mentally perfect. Perfect in every way.
May they somehow simultaneously live a life of adventure and exploration, while never doing anything that could get them hurt. Not sure what this one looks like, exactly…
May my children see the simple joys in life, like falling asleep under a tree on a sunny day, or always doing what their father says.
May they be humble in victory, and theoretically gracious in defeat, even though they will never experience it.
May they find something in their life that makes them truly happy, whether it’s a career, an art, a hobby, or always doing what their father says.
May they find true love in their lives, always remembering that was this true love there to comfort them when they were scared of monsters in the night? Or care for them when they were dehydrated with fever? Or show them how to ride a bike, or make cookies, or catch a ball? No. No, this so-called “true love” was nowhere to be seen.