My daughter Alyeska figured out my weak spot early on. At the wee age of two years old, she learned how to crack through the fragile façade of puffed-up seriousness I used to present my authority. I still remember the impish shadow of a grin that exploded into full blown laughter when she realized that if she could get me to crack a smile everything would change. As she stood before me shaking with glee, I had the sudden suspicion that inside that adorable, blonde-headed little body must surely live the consciousness of some mischievous Zen master. I knew, right then and there, that I was had.

Alyeska is now six years old. We've been through a year of Kindergarten, her attending, me volunteering a half-day each week. I've come to see how inventive children can be as they strive to tie together what they know and sense inside themselves with what they learn from others, be it teachers, parents or fellow children. I've been reminded time and again how truly wondrous and joyful it can be to see the world with a child as your guide.

There are many noted men and women of wisdom who urge us to allow children to be our teachers. It's a good thought, though clearly this must be balanced with the responsibility we have to teach our children certain basic skills. The enlightened encouragement to learn from children is thus not always easy for parents to accomplish, for how do we know when to teach and when to be open to learning? What's the trick to finding the balance?

Just recently I asked my daughter to clean up her room. When she said she was, I went to check and found her playing on the floor instead. The sight of strewn dolls, library books, colored markers and paper, china tea set cups, carelessly tossed off slippers, and a pile of stuffed animal parrots, monkeys and manatee made me shake inside.

"Alyeska!" I shouted with anger-edged exasperation. "What am I going to do with you?"

"I don't know, mom," she said with a woeful, little shrug of her shoulders. And then, as she looked up into my eyes, she suddenly brightened. The same impish smile she wore when she was two snuck across her face. In perfect-pitch parroting fashion, she repeated words of advice I have given more than once. "I guess you're just going to have to learn to deal with the situation."

And that's when I got my answer. What we have to teach is often what we have to learn.