I have no doubt that over the years my children will find plenty of things about me to criticize. But something tells me that twenty years from now not one of them will sit on some therapist's couch complaining because their mother didn't spend enough time vacuuming up glitter.
For 25 years, I did take my responsibilities as a pleaser of others sufficiently seriously.
Those who rhapsodize about the ease and joy of childhood have perhaps forgotten what it's like to be 12 years old.
Looking Back: An Eighteen Year Old Reflects on Life.