At a recent holiday assembly, I sat behind a row of parents watching dozens of 9-year-olds in clip-on ties and sequined dresses singing 'Sleigh Ride' and other carols. Each of the parents had a phone in hand, diligently recording the event. Some couples coordinated their efforts, one parent taking a video while the other shot still images. They were working so hard to ensure they didn't miss anything'and yet I worried that they were, in fact, missing out. Childhood is fleeting. This performance, this soccer game, this romp in the snow will never come again. So I understand the instinct to somehow capture it all, to pin it down like a butterfly. My youngest child is a high-school senior, and my wife and I recently attended our last-ever parent-teacher conference. But the memory of our first such meeting, the two of us seated in tiny preschool chairs, still feels fresh. I can, to this day, recall the tension I felt in my body back then as I wondered about my son: Is he okay' Does he...
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