He's got the whole world in his hands.

When my sister was 6, her ambition in life was to become a teacher.

Reason?
Because education is concerned with the battle against tyranny, oppression, inequality and exploitation? . . Given that she was 6, somewhat unsuprisingly; No.

Because she wanted to help children learn to read and write and do numbers?
No.

Because she wanted to help children know where countries are and what happened in history and how to draw well and remember to recycle? No.

It was because she wanted to be able to keep her eyes open in prayers.



Well, sis,
NER. NER. NER. NER. NER!!! I get to keep my eyes open in prayers!

N.b. She currently finds herself inescapably ensnared in a terrifying-time-space-warp- pre-determined-parallel-zone- horror-dimension where despite choosing different A-levels, different schools, a different University and completely different degree in a completely different subject, she handed in her proposal this morning and it stared back at her with the same dissertation project that I handed in this summer.
("How?" she jibbers down the phone at me, disolving into unintelligable random words, which sounded like "ice cream" and "international law" and "pears")

Well, sis, you're handing in my dissertation, and I'm living out your dreams. It's a small world, and he's got the whole of it in his hands, apparantly. It's no wonder he gets it a bit muddled sometimes.