It didn't matter that Dad mostly likely would have had more interest in wading through "Volume 7" of an encyclopedia printed in Swahili than psychedelic world of Tolkein. He understood profound meaning of his son's gift. Fighting back tears, Dad held treasured volume in his hands and said, "I promise to give it back, son, as soon as I've read it."

Smiling broadly, Jim turned his attention to my gift to him. Although he was clearly moved by books, a strange awkwardness washed over room as I realized he had no gift for me. After a long moment, he said softly, "I looked through everything I owned, and I couldn't find anything I thought you might want."

Now it was my turn to fight back tears. Apparently, my brother had no idea of incredible gift he'd just given me in that simple statement. After all, what could be a greater gift than to know someone thinks highly enough of you to want to give very best he has—and comes up short?

I smiled and said, "The look on your face is gift enough for me, brother," and I meant every word.

I got many other gifts that year, but I don't remember any of them. And I've been given hundreds of presents since that Christmas long ago, but I can recall only a few of those. But my brother's gift—the one he thought he couldn't give—will always be one of most precious gifts I've ever received.

© 2004. Gary E. Anderson. All rights reserved.

So I ask again: was that "quality time?"

Think back to your own childhood. What things do you remember most about your parents? Was it fact that your dad worked 16 hours a day at office, and fell asleep on couch on weekends because he was too exhausted to move? No, I'm willing to wager that's not what you remember. More likely, you remember time you went for a long walk along country road in rain and came home looking like not only something cat had dragged in, but something he'd dragged in and forgotten under refrigerator for a month.

It's been said that kids spell "love" ... t-i-m-e, and I couldn’t agree more.

So next time you hear yourself thinking that you'll make it up to your daughter when she asks you to play "Chutes and Ladders" for seven millionth time, remember: your kids are watching you, and it doesn't matter how young they are; they know how to spell word "quality," too.

Strangely enough, to our kids, word "quality" is spelled exactly same as word "love."

They’re both spelled T-I-M-E.

© 2004. Gary E. Anderson. All rights reserved.