One when Lucas was five or so I asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up (a question I have since revised to "what do you want to do when you grow up?"). I forget what he said, as he probably has too, but I remember him saying that he didn't want to be "a writer daddy."

At the time I couldn't blame him. I was going downstairs to drink coffee and write quite a bit at that time. He was home, not yet in school, and wanting to play with dad. Definitely time of high resentment for my writing. I don't know how he feels now, because he's started a couple of books––an adventure series in the Percy Jackson mode, a graphic novel––and even though he didn't finish them, he must be at least a little bit less down on writing as a way of life that he was four years ago. We even sat down once at a coffee shop like true writers to talk about one of his projects, and I asked him a bunch of questions about his characters just like I would with one of my college students. 

I haven't heard Landon talk about writing books, so I don't know how he feels. He may not be inclined toward it, though he does love to draw and make music on iPads with GarageBand. The combinations he comes up with amaze me––he's so free, the quintessence of the child-as-artist, and I hope he finds ways not to lose that. As an artsy guy, I'm gratified that my children to enjoy doing artsy things, and I hope this will last for the rest of their lives. 

This is where all that resentment-inducing time I spend writing might (so I hope) end up paying off for them. If there's one thing in the world I can teach my sons, it's the personal discipline and curiosity required to keep a creative practice going. If they want to go down that road, then they've picked a good guy to have as a dad. 

Or maybe they don't end up writing, maybe they don't even end up being artsy at all. Then at the very least my writing gives them a good example of focus, ambition, and perseverance––something they can later apply to becoming restaurateurs, astrophysicists, shamans, coaches.

So I tell myself to assuage the guilt of not spending as much time with them as I'm truly able to. So I tell myself.