2000
Daddy, What if I Do My Best?
February 2000


“Daddy, What if I Do My Best?” Ensign, Feb. 2000, 20

“Daddy, What if I Do My Best?”

One misconception I had about being a parent was that I, as an adult, had already acquired all the knowledge necessary to raise children to be responsible, loving, and capable people. Much to my surprise, my children are giving me an education.

My daughter Molly was beginning to compete in organized athletics and was playing recreational soccer with other six-year-olds. The girls were not skilled players: they could hardly spell soccer, much less run and kick the ball at the same time. I noticed they did not take practice too seriously; they seemed to be laughing a lot rather than concentrating on developing skills they would need to win a game. I voiced my concern to Molly, who assured me she was trying.

For our first game, Molly and I arrived early and found other teams playing a game on the field. While we waited for that game to end, Molly ran off to play with friends, but I called her to my side and began to point out to her the teams’ good and bad plays. Among other things, I pointed out opportunities to score that were missed, bad passes, and players that were out of position. I had no doubt that my insightful critique of the game would help her in a few minutes when her own game began.

As game time approached, I could feel my anxiety build. Did Molly really understand my expectations for her performance? I decided to increase the rewards. “If you score a goal, I will buy you a package of gum,” I told her. Feeling I had properly motivated my child, I settled back to watch.

After a few moments I realized Molly was still looking at me, and then she said: “Daddy, what if I do my best and don’t score a goal? Do I still get the gum?” Her innocent blue eyes looked trustingly into mine, and her comment pierced my heart.

“Of course, Molly,” I managed to stammer. “That is what I really meant. Just do your best. That is all I expect.” I watched, dazed, as we continued to observe the game. Then I felt ashamed. Molly’s participation in athletics was for her development—to have fun, to get some exercise, and to learn skills. It wasn’t to fulfill my expectations.

I don’t remember much about that game, except the important lesson I learned from my six-year-old daughter about being a father.

  • Bill Schlofman serves as bishop of the Cactus View Ward, Phoenix Arizona North Stake.