I have a theory that we know what we are meant to be--or want to be--at the age of 7, and then eventually puberty scrambles our brains, leaving us uncertain and confused. We think what we wanted when we were seven wasn't good enough.
I know a priest who knew he wanted to be a priest when he was about seven.
I knew I wanted to be a writer when I was about seven.
What did you want to be when you grew up when you were about seven?
Of course being a mommy counts. You don't even have to ask.
Update: Those Roman Catholic readers who go to the Extraordinary Form of the Mass may find this post vastly amusing. Other readers of Good Will may not find it as amusing, unless they are Pixies with a very well-developed sense of humour.