"Good morning," I said. 

"Good morning," Heidi mumbled, then smiled as she chewed and gulped the remains. She hummed as she studied the rest of her slice, then peeled off the pepperonis and laid them aside. I shook my head, pretending to be annoyed at her choice of breakfast. In truth, almost nothing ever upsets me in the morning about little Miss Perpetual Smile, except when she skips breakfast, depriving herself of nourishment and depriving me of our special time together.

"So, what else is on your plate today," I asked.

"I'm going to help Coach Wichman with cheerleader tryouts after school, so I won't be going to work today," she said. "And NHS has a meeting about this weekend's project." She spoke between gulps of cappuccino. "Oh, I need a note saying that I was at Model U.N. yesterday, and I need money for my singing lessons."

I started to complain, but her smile cut me short. "Home for supper?"

She shook her head. "Alisa and I are going to meet the guys to see a movie. I'll be home before curfew."

I pointed to a pile of papers on the far end of the kitchen table. "Don't forget to fill out those scholarship applications."

"I won't." She finished breakfast and disappeared into the bathroom for her daily half-hour of quiet time with her hair. I heard a rustling behind me, and I looked back to see if my wife, Elvera, had awakened.  To my surprise, it was my son.

"Good morning," I said. He groaned and made a face, but the sly smile gave away his true disposition. He drew himself a cup of tap water, drank it and went back to bed. I knew I wouldn't see him again until about 10 minutes before his sister threatened to leave for school without him.

I sighed. Despite growing up in the same environment, with the same parents utilizing the same parenting techniques, Blake is the antithesis of his older sister. All attempts to interest this tall, lanky sophomore in extracurricular activities have failed. Most of the time, he seems oblivious to his surroundings, and appeals or punctuality appear to make him physically ill. Still, he makes good grades, in part because of a natural aptitude for academics -- his trig classmates, mostly seniors, call him John Nash ("A Beautiful Mind") -- in part because he actually studies and works once you quit pressing  and turn your back. And, while feigning disinterest, his casual remarks often betray the fact that he perceives and cares more about the people and events around him than he usually shows.

If I appear to be bragging about my kids, then fine. It's my prerogative. After all, when I look at my children today and see what fine young adults they're becoming, I feel vindicated by the decisions and concessions I've made.

The relationship between parenting and career is always precarious, but you learn to live with the day-to-day adjustments that parenting requires. Your employer learns to live with them, too, or else you move on.

I glanced down at one of our table place mats, oval, plastic-covered collages of photos of our children from infancy to about age 12. I studies the picture of Heidi that I'd taken moments after her birth as she lay in an incubator, and my mind drifted back to that day.