BSM told me the other day that he knows what he wants to be when he grows up: a paramedic. (He called the job an "איש הצלה", but I know what he means.) We discussed oh-so-briefly (me: "that's nice, you have a bit of time to decide, if you change your mind that's fine, if you don't change your mind that's fine;" BSM: "actually, I have a lot of time to decide, because I'm only 5 1/2") and then he followed up with, "And I also know what I don't want to be."
"Oh? What?"
"A soldier or a policeman."
"Why not?"
"Because a soldier has to eat everything on the table, and I don't like techina or carrots, and that's what they give soldiers to eat."
Friends, I did not laugh.
Turns out his teacher told the kids something along those lines to encourage them to eat... Oops.
And if you're curious, the reason he doesn't want to be a policeman is, "They have to carry the gun, and the handcuffs, and the vest, and the radio... It's too much stuff. It's a balegan. It's just too much."
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