Parent without a clue

Most of the time, parenting seems to be the ultimate high-risk, low-reward vocation. I try to do the best I can, hoping to be a better dad to my kids than mine was to me. That's not a very high bar, yet success is no guarantee.

I've been at it going on 14 years now and still have lots to learn. High school promises new challenges and opportunities, more failures and disappointments. I have the best kids in the world, don't get me wrong, but I often think I'm just plain lucky.

And then there are moments, usually when you least expect it, when you know you've done something right -- even if you can't quite figure out what that is.

Tonight brought one of those moments. Nodding off on the couch while watching the news and skipping my son's orchestra performance -- which automatically disqualifies me from "good dad" consideration -- my precocious 10-year-old daughter walks into the room, shuts off the TV and sits down beside me.

"I have something I need to talk to you about," she says with the seriousness of someone three times her age.

I sit up and brace myself for what's to follow, though I haven't a clue. It's immediately clear she's given this a lot of thought.

"You know how I like animals?" she begins.

I listen, respond appropriately so she knows I'm hearing, and don't fly off the handle when she says she no longer wants to eat meat. All my work to make her an expensive date -- developing her taste for shrimp, crab and lobster -- is out the window.

Perhaps someone at school has planted these thoughts in her head, though she assures me that's not the case. I suspect a neighbor, but don't say so for fear of damaging an important family relationship. I silently question if "Wife Swap" is appropriate family entertainment. Monday's episode, after all, featured a self-sufficient Iowa farm family which subsided on raw meat.

I'm a dedicated meat-and-potatoes guy who prefers my steak medium well. I nearly had a cow, and haven't been back since, when I first experienced Red Robin and was presented the options of "pink or no pink" -- as if that's all there is. Sushi has never crossed these lips.

A vegetarian diet is a foreign concept in this household. But I'm willing to entertain it if only out of flattery for the manner in which she chose to broach the subject.

In the grand scheme of things, meat or no meat is inconsequential. Peanut butter is loaded with protein, I reason. But there's no substitute for the moment daddy's girl confided in her dad. I cherish it, and hope there's more to come.

Then we settle in for more questionably appropriate family entertainment -- "My Name is Earl" and "The Office." It's not in any parenting manual, but it seems to work for us.