Forty. I used to think that by the time I reached this age, I’d feel like I had most things figured out. I still have plenty of moments when I’m making it up as I go, especially as a dad. Sometimes I know exactly what I want to say to my kids. Other times I need a minute to figure out what they’re trying to tell me.

Having two kids has made me think about the kind of home I want them to remember. I hope they remember that they could come find me when something was bothering them, even if it seemed small to me. I hope they remember being able to laugh with me, too. Those are things I can give them on a regular Tuesday, without waiting for a birthday or a holiday.

One thing I’m learning about being a parent is that the same answer can land differently with each child. One might want help right away, while the other needs time before they can even tell me what’s wrong. I can get so focused on solving the problem that I skip the part where I find out which kind of help they need. Sometimes sitting beside them for a minute is a better start than giving them three things to try.

I think about what I needed from adults when I was young. It mattered when someone had enough time to let me finish explaining, even if my explanation went in circles. I’d like my kids to have that feeling at home. That means putting down what I’m holding once in a while and letting a small interruption take a few minutes.

I’m grateful I get to do this with my wife. There’s a lot of life in the middle of making dinner, getting everyone ready for bed, and doing it again the next day. At forty, I want to pay a little more attention to it while I’m in it.