I want to be the boss of the world. And let’s make it clear that if this were the case, we can get the empirical decree for the establishment of peace and an end to suffering out of the way because that’s a gimmee.
Now, moving on.
If I were the boss of the world, teachers would earn well into six-figures.
Professional athletes who rape women and let dogs eat each other would slip quietly, and with great embarrassment and shame, out of the public eye, and find redemption building schools in impoverished neighborhoods and villages.
Smoking pot would not be against the law.
Smoking cigarettes around your infant in the car would be.
Schools would have enough money to automatically integrate art, poetry, music, philosophy, and mandatory nature walks into the curriculum.
Because if I were the boss of the world, our well-paid teachers (see above) would have all the resources they need at their fingertips so that the words “achievement gap” mean about as much as the words “8-track tape” and all kids are free to work to their highest potential.
If I were the boss of the world, politicians who preach hate then play footsie in bathroom stalls would never hate themselves enough to preach the hate in the first place.
All dog owners would clean their pets’ poop off the streets and parks so I don’t have to squash it on my sneakers every time I go to the library or take my preschooler to romp in the grass. Or maybe, if I were the boss of the world, all dogs would just be required to wear diapers.
If I were the boss of the world, all children would feel loved and love themselves. And all grown-ups too, for that matter.
If I were the boss of the world, all of our long and complicated days as parents wouldn’t be perfect, because that would be dull. But us parents would all have the grace and the dignity to bounce back from imperfect days. Those days when we scream with too much force over the boots we trip over in the hall or give the kids Lunchables for dinner or accidentally say the f-word in front of the preschooler. On these sorts of days, under my reign, we will forgive ourselves, hug it out, kiss our babies, lay with our spouses, and thank our lucky stars for this brief and marvelous time together.
So, can you put in a good word for me on that promotion?
Bio: Robin Dutton-Cookston is a writer and editor who lives in San Francisco. Check out her blog at The Foggiest Idea.
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