CATCHING WAVES:

Late one afternoon last summer, our family arrived at a campsite on the western shore of Lake Michigan. We had been driving all day, across Wisconsin on our way further east. The four of us--my wife and two daughters, ages 7 and 10--set up our tent, made dinner, then went down to the water. Two-foot waves were rolling across the lake, a taste of what lay ahead: We were going to the Mackinac Island Stone Skipping Competition--the oldest, most prestigious rock-skipping tournament in the United States, if not the world. Every Fourth of July, elite skippers (many former and current world-record holders) take turns throwing their stones into the waters where lakes Huron and Michigan meet, also known for having rolling, two-foot waves crashing on the beach.

I looked down, saw a decent skipping stone, and picked it up. My daughters were watching. The older one spoke up.

"Are you prepared for the fact that you probably won't win?" she asked.

I threw the stone.

"Four," she said. "But it caught a wave."

My shoulders sagged.

"Don't doubt yourself, Daddy!"

Her younger sister looked at her. "But you doubted him," she said.

"That's different."

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