Sharing toast, eggs and a song
Mark Pavilons

With a broad smile and slight tear in his eye, a proud father watched his nine-yearold perform in her school play.

Not an earth-shattering occurrence. In fact, it likely happened thousands of times in recent weeks, as schools far and wide showed off their talented students as the school year winds down.

But these were moments unlike any others. They are unrivaled.

Through a whole cut in the large cardboard knife, my daughter Lexie sang her lines with confidence and prowess beyond her years. In all the hustle and bustle of the number, she likely couldn't hear herself or fully know her impact on the world at that moment.

But I did.

It was like that odd, mysterious flash of positive energy spread to the universe, as depicted in The Secret, only on a smaller scale.

The fruits of our labours of parenthood are quite obvious. They're literally in front of our very noses and yet we often do not fully appreciate the grandeur of it all. We see our kids as mini-people - still needy, not quite independent with many years of evolving ahead of them. More often than not, they're discounted because they're kids.

They are our future. The painted faces at school plays are the future leaders, scientists, politicians and healers. They are what it's all about. It's always been that way.

I often shed a tear or two at school plays or talent shows. It has something to do with a youngster's 15 minutes of fame - enjoying the spotlight for a few, brief, shining moments. Priceless. Always important, and never meaningless or worthless. In fact, the importance is likely beyond belief.

In these baby steps of our children's development, defining moments are as monumental as any adult achievement - climbing mountains, curing cancer and feeding the hungry.

Our charges need to know we understand and care. They need to know they're special.

Sure, younglings are fragile critters. They're impressionable and they're easily confused. They're trying so hard to understand, fit in and make sense of it all. Sound familiar?

They need us to give them gentle shoves; to stroke their egos. They need latitude. They need to develop a sense of self-esteem and pride in accomplishment, no matter how small.

That's where parents come in.

Our role is not just as biological soup makers, but mentors, leaders and educators. Our job is not to shatter dreams, but foster them. We are our children's biggest cheerleaders, so get those routines going, people.

One recent Saturday morning, my son Liam and I took time to share a daystarting breakfast at the Riverside Grill. Again, not a monumental happening.

But it sure seemed like much, much more.

He was perched on a rather high stool, his legs dangling a couple of feet from the floor. We sat looking out the window, watching as people drove by in a seemingly hurried pace.

We share a great breakfast (according to Liam one of the best in the world), but more importantly we shared time. I don't even remember the specifics of our conversation, but I can tell you that it warmed my soul.

It may have been just another minor excursion for him, but for dad, it was like that fishing trip I never took with my own father; that family camping trip that never was; the three-legged race I never finished - all rolled up into one neat, little moment in time.

I never expected eggs, sausage, home fries and toast could be so revealing and heart-warming.

I didn't want the moment to end, really.

It left me feeling a bit lighter for the remainder of the weekend. It was the fuel in my aging tank.

When I really think about it, I fully understand the potential in our children.

It's everything, you see.

But that's not to say we need them to study the piano 20 hours a week; never fall off their bikes, or figure out how to fly a kite in 10 minutes (although Lexie humbled her dad in this very task recently).

At what point do we respect and listen to them as equals? I think that's one of the defining moments of parenthood. Some would say when they become teenagers, others contend it's when they become adults themselves.

But does that mean a nine-year-old can't make a valuable contribution by saving the life of a lowly earthworm? Do we disregard the endless questions posed by a curious six-year-old who believes in superheroes? And must we stymie the outbursts of an inquisitive 20-month-old who's exploring the first three feet of the planet?

We all started out this way - each and every one of us. Even famous Hollywood stars and powerful world leaders watched cartoons and stayed in their pjs the entire day.

I tend to criticize my kids more than I should. I want desperately for them to rise above, meet challenges and succeed in every aspect of their lives. I feel it's my job to pave their way, part the sea as it were, for their journey.

Maybe all I really need to do is cry at their school play and share some toast on a Saturday morning.