I remember reading an interview with a famous politician and found myself pleasantly surprised when he said that he wanted to be remembered most as a man who had fun with his children.

"Gee, dad was a lot of fun" -what an epitaph that would be!

That could have been Theodore Roosevelt's epitaph. Historian and author, David McCullough, writes that Roosevelt was arguably the youngest in spirit of all or out Presidents. "He joined in pillow fights, picnics, relished ghost stories in the dark, bedtime stories, stories of any kind . . . . He was the kind of father who, at the dinner table, would serve the youngest child first, or who, when their mother was not looking, would cut the icing off his own cake and slip it to the nearest child.

'I love all these children and have great fun with them,' he wrote to his sister-in-law, 'and I am touched by the way in which they feel I am their special friend, champion and companion.'"

What memories are you making with your child(ren)? I hope it isn't all work and no play. I am convinced that playing together - time spent in laughter, fun and joy together - is the canvas upon which full, meaningful family experiences are created.

Dads, spending time in positive, child directed play helps your child to develop key social skills. Research indicates that through the power of play children acquire knowledge to:

- communicate their thoughts and feelings;

- cope with life's stresses and emotional distress;

- connect with those around them in their family, school, or neighborhood; and

- comprehend the world around them through imagination, exploration, and learning.

Many researchers believe that fathers influence their children primarily though play. Not only do dads generally spend a greater percentage of their time with children in playful activities, but they also engage in styles of play that are more physical and exciting than the way mothers typically interact. Across the board, researchers have found that children seem to develop the best social skills when their dads play with them, while maintaining a positive tone and allowing their kids to take part in directing the course of play.

Dads "horseplay" actually provides an important avenue for helping children learn about emotions. The child learns to watch and react to Dad's cues for a positive experience. Such skills serve a child well as he or she ventures out into the wide world of playmates. Having roughhoused with Dad, she knows how to read other people's signals for example.

One of the things I have learned as a son and a father is it is not the "major moments" that count the most but rather the consistent small moments spent together. For example, if you were to ask any one of my children what their favorite memory with Dad when they were younger they most likely would say "the washing machine." The washing machine was a silly little game I would play with them. I was the washing machine and they were the clothes. The object was to mimic a bundle of clothes being washed, rinsed, dried and folded. The washing machine - a silly little physical game - but one that I believe has helped them to mature in ways beyond their awareness at the time.

Those small children are all teenagers now and "the washing machine" is a thing of the past. We still play however, usually something that involves a ball, a board or a controller! But sometimes when they least expect it "dear old dad" will sneak up on them with a bear hug, take down, or a tickle. The roles have reversed. I'm doing more of the coaxing now, but the results seem to be the same - fun and meaningful connection. I hope to God that I have plenty of years of life left, but when ever my time on earth is through I hope that "Dad was a lot of fun" makes it into my epitaph!

Rich Batten is the father of four teenagers, and the family and consumer science agent for Colorado State University Cooperative Extension. He is also the author of the e-mail newsletter Fastbreak for Fathers from which this is an excerpt.

http://www.coopext.colostate.edu/douglas/famcon_files/fastbreak/fastbreak.htm