Independence is a tricky subject when it comes to children. As a parent, I want my children to be as an independent as humanly possible. For starters, it's good for them…the added bonus is that I don't have to do as much. That may sound a bit lazy but after putting away enough laundry to clothe half the children below the Mason- Dixon line, fixing enough lunches to feed Mexico, and wiping enough little bottoms to earn a medal from the inventor of the wipie, I could use a little break.

Independence can come at a price though. One morning not long ago my wife was in a hurry, and I wasn't available so she told our son who was five- years- old at the time to brush his teeth by himself. I believe her exact words were, "I trust you, son. You can do it."

Five minutes later he came strolling into our room covered in Crest from head to toe. His school uniform was no longer red, but more a sparkly aqua, and he smelled minty fresh. I ran to check the bathroom and found the counters were in about as good a shape as his shirt. Ironically, the only thing he didn't get Crest on was his toothbrush. As we stared at the mess, he looked up at me with his best puppy dog eyes and whispered, "I had a little trouble getting it out of the tube."

No kidding.

So instead of saving some time, my wife and I ended up scrambling for a new uniform and cleaning a gooey, minty fresh mess. That's the problem with giving children independence; it often comes with a price.

The first time my youngest daughter fixed her own lunch, I found her seven- year- old frame balancing precariously on the kitchen counter. As she scoured the cabinets for a Rice Crispy Treat, she continuously stepped on an open bag of sour cream and onion chips with one foot and used our toaster oven for leverage with the other foot. When I entered the kitchen with a terrified look on my face, she turned to me with a firm grip on the cabinet doorknob and one foot buried in our chips and said, "What??? I couldn't reach the box!" It's been a year and she still prefers to climb the counters rather than drag a chair over. I guess our chips will have footprints until she learns otherwise.

Just last week, my oldest daughter who just recently turned ten, thought she was independent enough to fold up our new ping- pong table and roll it to the side of the garage after playing a few games with her brother and sister. The fact that her mother and I had mentioned one or two hundred times that this act may not be in her best interest, she still felt the need to perform this service to "help us out." By the time I arrived on the scene of the loud crashing sound, the ping- pong table lay in a mangled heap on the floor. Screws were scattered everywhere, and the net was tangled and bent. My daughter stood in the corner feverishly searching her mind for an excuse as to why our once great ping- pong table had been reduced to a pile of kindling. The best defense was her offense and she said sheepishly, "I guess you didn't put it together too well Daddy."

I guess not, but that still didn't explain the destructive power of a ten- year- old little girl (good intentions and all). I wasn't happy to see our new table in a heap on the floor, but I was ecstatic that none of my children were lying under that mangled mess.

The fight for independence is tough for children but I'm pretty sure it is a lot tougher for their parents. Right now I'm just thankful it's toothpaste and ping- pong tables. I'm thinking the real trouble starts when they ask for the car keys.