Last evening during dinner, my wife mentioned to my six-year old son that his best buddy had lost a tooth that very day (she is good friends with the buddies grandma so she got the scoop early). What transpired was heart wrenching.

My son, noticeably devastated, put his head down on the table buried in the crook of his elbow and remained in that position of mourning for quite some time. At first I thought he was joking but as he raised his sweet little head, I saw huge crocodile tears and an anguished look on his face. I knew this was no act.

“I’m the last one” he wailed. “Everybody in my class has lost a tooth except me.” He suddenly felt different, he felt left behind. For the first time in his life he felt like he didn’t measure up. And who could blame him. My son sported a full set of pearly whites and all of his buddies looked like the starting side of the Detroit Redwings.

After much cajoling and lots of crude dental jokes, he perked up. “The last kids to lose their teeth are the kids that have the strongest teeth” I quipped. “Your teeth probably have super powers. You should be proud of the strength of your teeth.” As he began to view his choppers with new found superiority his mood changed, devastation passed and he went merrily on his way to take a bath.

That’s when it hit me. My children are going to look to me when they bump up against true disappointment in life. As the stakes rise, I’m the guy that will help them through the tough times.

This time the disappointment was easily processed and overcome but soon my kids will have real weighty issues with which to deal. “I didn’t make the team, I got jilted by my girlfriend, kids laughed at my hair, I got beat up, teased, I was the last one picked for the basketball game, I was denied admission to the college of my choice.” Holy shit, my reaction and counsel during these inevitable situations will ultimately determine how my children react to adversity and respond to hard times.

This worried me. I tend to respond to bumps in the road with a “Suck it up and dust your socks off” attitude. I’m from the “get back on that horse” school of thought. I’m good at offering motivation and inspirational pep talks but when it comes to offering sympathy and comfort, I struggle. Productive counseling is not my strong suit. In fact, I’m a moron when it comes to offering solace.

I remember my first gig as a high school dorm counselor. This scared little freshman, first time he’s ever been away from home knocks on my door at 3 a.m. looking for some TLC and says, “coach I think I’m going to throw up.” I hand him a wet washcloth, point in the direction of the hall bathroom and yell at him as he meekly stumbles down the hall, “hey don’t puke on the seat, I use that bathroom too.”

As I rest my head in the crook of my elbow and contemplate the hard insensitive road my kids must face with a “just get over it” dad, I remember that my wife is a freaking counselor. A hospital chaplain for goodness sakes! If anybody can help me find healing words to offer my children during tough times, it is my sweet wife.

Nice, saved by my marriage choice again.

I feel sorry for all of you suckers that married prosecuting attorneys. Not really. I’m pretty sure prosecuting attorneys make more than hospital chaplains, so just suck it up.