2 . “Can we eat this one, Dad?” my four-year-old daughter, Alicia, asks. We’re on one of our Thursday adventures, searching the nearby woods for eatable mushrooms. She’s pointing at a bright-red cap covered with white dots. I pull out my handy mushroom-identification app, which notes that Amanita muscaria, while eatable if prepared properly, is also a known hallucinogen (致幻剂). I have a firm “tell them the truth and be as precise as possible” philosophy and explain what the app says, and that I don’t think our Thursday adventures are ready to get quite that adventurous yet.

Watching your kids learn new skills is extraordinarily rewarding, but I’ve experienced more personal growth than I have at any other point in my life.

Last year, after a winter of practicing skiing on the green tracks for beginners each week, Alicia was french-frying her way down blues and even attempted her first black. That month also witnessed me visiting the mountain more times than in the 15 years combined and I’ve got myself a partner for life.

It’s not all easy—but sometimes that’s the point. Alicia practices the violin every day, and although she enjoys it, even 15 minutes of practice can upset her. The trick, I’ve found, is to let her watch me try to get better at something, too. I start taking piano lessons at 41 years old with the idea that if she sees me struggling as I practice and then improve, she’ll understand that things don’t come easy, even for grown-ups. I know there’s going to be a time when I’ll end up on the sideline cheering her on as she finds her own passions. I’m okay with this, and I’m hoping that by then she’ll carry the joy of practice and knowledge through life.