Every day we live, our personal potential diminishes. There is one less day for us to "do" something, whatever that something might be.

Of course, another way to look at this is to say that every day there is the chance for us to "do" something. Where you sit on this tends to have something to do with how you look at things in general.

Parents tend to view their children in terms of potential. What might they do? Who might they be? What does that mean for us?

My son Max turned nine last week. He's almost halfway out the door. And his potential is significant. His teachers at school seem to feel that they have to convince us of his "gifts," since they always seem to be talking to us about such things. Hey, we know the boy is frighteningly smart. We get to live with that, which isn't as easy as you might think. But while most of the teachers focus on the academic, we tend to be a bit more holistic in our approach.

We are more interested in the fact that Max is among the most popular kids at the school. Kids from all grades seek him out just to say hi. Wherever he walks, there is a crowd. One teacher told us that she's never seen a high-strung kid such as Max be so popular. He seems to have both the ambition and nervous energy necessary to be a good student, as well as the patience and interest in others that is required to be a social butterfly. Many of his teachers have been serious when they say they expect him to be president someday.

The problem with that theory is that Max is a leader by collaboration. Unlike almost every other boy, he doesn't use intimidation as a first resort. He tries to bring people together before he resorts to punches. Which is good. I've seen his one fight, and while he won on points, he had twenty pounds and almost a foot on his adversary. Pugilism will not be a path to success for him.

He likes standing in front of people and performing, and he's quite good at organizing his teams, but he's a center midfielder. He's the guy in the middle of the action. So maybe he'll be a senator.

More likely, though, he'll find something else to do. On Saturday, my wife took him to one of those free conventions that seem to pop up in D.C. every so often. This one focused on science and engineering, and he had a great time. One woman talked to him about nuclear energy, and he asked "What do you do with the nuclear waste?" He got into technical discussions at other booths. He lost track of time--which is a great way to gauge interest.

After the passage of nine years, Max's potential still seems quite large. Unlike the many folks who have all sorts of plans for him, my wife and I don't know what Max will do. He loves reading. He loves numbers. He loves science. He loves learning, period. Kids who love learning are sponges, and you never know what will get squeezed out over time. Watching your kids grow up is like watching your favorite sports team progress (or regress) over the years, except that the stakes are much higher. And you have a significant role to play.

I never did get a novel published by the time I turned forty. I didn't cure cancer and I never hit for the cycle. But I have had the chance to help Max and Sam find their way just a bit. As my potential diminishes, theirs seems to be unlimited.

That's a trade I'll make every time.

Jon Worley's potential is draining a bit faster these days.