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My son's career makes me nervous.

It's certainly not what I envisioned when he was a little guy. I thought perhaps he'd be an artist, maybe a writer; after all, he loved to draw and he wrote the cutest little stories. He even drew a comic strip for a little while!

Later, I thought he might be a teacher. That would be great!  I could see him in a classroom, helping children learn.

Or maybe he'd be an athlete. He loved to skate - he could be a hockey player. I could see just him scoring the winning goal and lifting the U.S. team to a gold medal in the Olympics. If not hockey, how about speed skating? My little guy loved to go fast on the ice, around and around the rink.

Of course I fantasized about law school and medical school. My Son the Doctor! My Son the Lawyer! If not that, perhaps he'd start his own business - My Son the Entrepreneur! - and become wildly successful.

But no. My son is a police officer. He loves his work and he's good at it. He graduated second in his class at the police academy; he excels at accident scene investigation. He spends his nights chasing underage drunks, drug users and traffic idiots; he's armed and ready.

I support his choice with my whole heart because law enforcement is right for him. I'm proud of his work and I'm proud of him.

But it still makes me nervous.