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One of the things parents hope for is that our offspring will do better than we did in life. For example, my eldest daughter will graduate from the University of Utah in May, having earned her bachelor's degree in social work.

Christie is the only one in our family to get a college degree so far. Her mother went to college but then decided to get married and raise a husband and a family instead.

Thanks to my own problematic work history, I've never tried to interfere with my daughters' choices as to what they wanted to do. I understand too well how that can backfire.

My father was a criminal investigator. The fact that all his sons became cops speaks to a certain amount of parental interference/influence. Today, one son is a police chief, one is dead and another a newspaper columnist. See what I mean?

What kind of parents — knowing full well what the job is like — encourage their children to take up a profession that guarantees a huge amount of psychological blowback? Why would anyone want a perfectly normal little boy to grow up and become a police chief?

Parents should be thinking things like "there's no way a kid of mine is going to become a (blackjack dealer, sewage worker, ditch digger, cowboy, professional politician, dog catcher, circus clown, data-entry processor or anything else the parent already hates doing)."

While I'm proud of how my daughters turned out, I'm growing concerned about their children. One grandson wants to become "either a volcanologist or a computer game designer, I haven't decided yet."

The rest have expressed interest in careers as hairstylists, jewelry models, pet store owners, movie stars, professional pony riders, beauty queens and dog walkers.

Before you start shouting, I already know that, with the exception of movie star, all of these are honorable professions of which any parent would be proud for their kid to take up. So no problem, right?

Not so fast. Recently, I've been hearing strange noises out of my 10-year-old granddaughter, Lyndie. The other day, she came over to the house to play. Out of nowhere she blurts, " 'Cops' is filmed on location with the men and women of law enforcement."

OK, she's seen a few episodes of "Cops." Nothing wrong with indulging an idle interest. But then she's on the way to the store and she sees a Unified Police Department officer light someone up. The suspect car immediately pulls over.

"Dang," Lyndie says. "I was hoping he would run. Then we could watch the cop do a PIT [Pursuit Intervention Technique] maneuver."

Things are definitely weird now. I have NEVER encouraged or even suggested that my grandchildren look into law enforcement. In fact, I rarely even talk about it around them.

So how does a quiet evening watching TV result in, "Mom, c'mere! This lady is getting busted for meth AND drug paraphernalia. She is so going to jail."

Just last week, my daughter and her husband took the girls to Las Vegas for a cheer competition. Lyndie's favorite part of the trip? Watching Vegas Metro throw some banger on the trunk of his car and yank a handgun out of his pants. She won't stop talking about it.

Obviously, I had to head this off before things got really bad. Yesterday, I took Lyndie aside to explain all the bad things about a career in law enforcement.

I said that I wanted her to stay the sweet girl I know and love, and not be tasering drunks on the side of the freeway or putting body parts in bags.

It seemed like I was getting through to her, but then she shyly asks, "Papa, when you die, who gets your handcuffs?

You can't fight a genetic disorder.

Robert Kirby can be reached at rkirby@sltrib.com or facebook.com/stillnotpatbagley.