This past Halloween my husband and I took our one-year-old daughter to a pumpkin patch. The place was crowded on a Saturday afternoon with what seemed to be at least a hundred families. The patch was on a working farm altered in wonderful ways in celebration of the season. They had a huge outdoor tent filled with hay for dancing, two bands, life-sized dancing vegetables, free apples in bushels on a wooden table, a petting zoo, pony rides, and a hay wagon to take people to and from the pumpkins.

There was a long line for the hay ride so Paul and I cheerfully took turns dancing in the tent with Emma and watching the band while one of us kept our place in line. When Paul took Emma to get an "apol" (her newest word and favourite food) I overheard a troubling conversation. Behind me, there was a man and woman with a young girl who was perhaps ten years old. I heard her parents complaining to the girl about the wait, the crowd and the threatening rain clouds. I heard their daughter tentatively telling them that there was so much to do, that it would be fun, a hint of anxiety in her voice that they would chose to leave without a cherished pumpkin for their trouble.

A day that my family was embracing was a day that this family was reluctantly enduring: in the patch, the adults stood to the side with their arms crossed and faces stern while the girl timidly looked for her pumpkin. I thought how sad, for the girl - but also for her parents. Passively observing a child is such a different thing from actively playing with her. Their memories of that day will be quite different ones from my own.

I remember Paul eagerly wading through mud with our daughter searching for the perfect pumpkin. He would hold numerous pumpkins aloft for me to help judge if it was round enough, orange enough, perfect enough to be Emma's very first. Emma toddled happily beside him, munching on a new fall apple, delighting in her father's joy in this task. Finding delight in the moment, taking pride in accomplishing the task at hand and celebrating the simple fact that we liked being with her and with each other were attitudes we modeled for our daughter that day.

Life is filled with long lines and bad weather. There is more involved in a trip to the pumpkin patch than simply picking a pumpkin.

In the great debate about quality versus quantity time, the state of truly being with our children is an art that is not understood by many. A friend tells me that her husband's idea of playing with their child is to read the newspaper while their daughter plays with her toys at his feet. He may be physically present but he is not emotionally or spiritually present and his daughter notices. Standing on the periphery, afraid to get our feet muddy,

does not show our children that we value them. Participating actively in their interests helps us to know our children...and know ourselves.

Life is not so much linear as circular. Not only do we revisit our own childhood through our children but we also have the opportunity to find balance in our current lives when we are with them. The magic of life can be lost in the everyday chores of being adult. Scrubbing toilets and paying bills are important ways we care for ourselves but playing is important too.

Children know that work and play are not mutually exclusive. Before Emma I did not know that making the bed and folding laundry involved so much laughter. When children approach obstacles with curiosity and a sense of adventure we remember that adversity is not always to be feared or avoided. What a gift it is when our sons and daughters remind us of the optimism within ourselves.

Our children can teach us how to taste joy if we will only slow down long enough to let them. A walk to our neighbourhood library, only five blocks away, can take an hour as Emma stops to climb each set of stairs she encounters, pet each dog that crosses her path, caress each flower, smile at each stranger. I have learned not to be so intent on the destination that I lose enjoyment of trip. I have also learned that eating popsicles is serious business, turning in circles delightful, reading the same book ten times a day aggravating but necessary, and that walking is preferable to crawling because it is less painful on your knees. It is easy to forget these things.

In today's society time is increasingly becoming a commodity. Parents often do not have the time to truly be with their children. Even if their bodies are present, their minds are preoccupied with office woes and work timetables. The awesome busyness of their lives leaves little space for nurturing their spirits, or the spirits of their children.

Time was a significant factor in my decision to stay home with my daughter. She will be a child who needs me for only a few short years before her life takes her places I cannot follow. If time has become currency, I choose to spend it on Emma.

My life is richer when I am with my wise-child of one. I have come to realize that being present in the moment is a marvelous way to live, that discovery lies under each rock, around each corner, and with each new day, and that choosing a pumpkin on a brisk autumn day is not a chore to do grudgingly, but a joyful act.

Truly being with my daughter keeps me in a challenging and wonderful state of grace.

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