When star athletes have babies every sportswriter predicts that child will become the next-best-thing in the sporting universe. It just doesn’t always turn out that way.

Michael Jordan’s son Jeffery didn’t turn out to be at all the athlete his father was. Walter Payton’s son had the same fate.

Layla Ali made her father proud. Prince Fielder was a better hitter than his dad, Cecil, and LeBron’s James’ kid is tearing up the AAU circuit in much the way his old man is tearing up the NBA. Where there are great athletes, there will be some very genetically-gifted athletic kids.

But not every kid goes on to succeed their parent in their preferred career.

Not every doctor’s son becomes a doctor, though some do. I have many friends that have become police officers or joined the military because it is engrained into their lives from their parents, grandparents and aunts or uncles. But not all.

I grew up the son of a hairstylist and a father who worked both blue- and white-collar jobs. Instead, I became a journalist. Part of my job requires photography and graphic design elements — these are not tasks I set out for but grew to love anyway. 

My kids?

Perla loves photography but has wanted to be a zookeeper for 9 of her 12 years on this earth. Gabe is seven and wants to own a “dually truck” and sell insurance.

And Vivian, well, Vivian wants to …

Wait, have I not introduced Vivian?

My youngest child, a beautiful baby girl with dark blue eyes who loves to sleep, was born a little over a week ago. She can’t talk yet, so I don’t know what she wants to do with her life yet other than probably walk, or maybe keep her sleeping routine. Perhaps she’ll one day want to play softball, or soccer, or tennis in school like her mom. Maybe she’ll want to write or sing or teach? She might want to become a nurse like her aunt or write comedy skits in New York like her uncle or sell lake houses up north because it’s beautiful. I don’t know what she wants to do, and I’m sure like most she will change her mind 1,000 times as a child before she gets a chance to hit the job market as an adult.

And when she makes that choice and hits the job market, I will be there, smiling, telling her “good job” and “go get ’em.” In a selfie. With a heart emoji along with a hug emoji. And a Hawaiian beach in the background, because I will retire early against better judgement to a beach somewhere warm. Literally the beach with a sleeping bag because I won’t be able to afford a home. But that’s my final dream and I’m going to make sure she knows it each day for the next 18 years.

— Adam Krebs is a reporter for the Times and envisions the day he can sit and do his crosswords in peace. He can be reached at akrebs@themonroetimes.net.