I could be wrong, but I believe most parents not only want their children to thrive, but they also want them to carry and reveal some remnant from each of them. Far more than the “nature” of a few proteins in the double-helix of DNA, we want our “nurture,” our working of the clay of our children's lives, to be evident in the way they live. Recall one of those special moments like when a young boy, sitting at the kitchen table, mimics every move his father makes as he goes through his morning routine of reading the morning paper and eating his breakfast. The boy who really doesn’t get excited over snotty eggs learns to eat the white first and then gulp up the whole yolk all at once just like Daddy does. Or imagine the same boy carefully spreading shaving cream over his face, then scraping it away with the handle of his toothbrush because he saw how Daddy does it. We want our children to perpetuate something of our character that somehow bridges the legacy of our identity and efforts into the future. Fast forward to the same boy as a twenty-something. He is now his own man. Not a “mini-me” but a wonderful variant of both mom and dad with a bit of the child’s freestyle mixed in. Now, imagine you have a family friend who gave your son a job at his machine shop. One day he comes to you and as you share a conversation over a beer, he begins telling you that he doesn’t respect your son, remarking how he is “so different from you.” Gut-check. Even if those criticisms were objectively accurate, what would your initial reaction be? I think in my own mind I would be inclined to wrap my hands around my so-called friend’s scrawny little neck, because how can someone love and respect me, the father, and yet hate my son?