Standing on the beach, on one of those recent scorching days, I saw a little boy in blue swim trunks careening across the beach, a 4-year-old with a mission. He had a white rock shaped roughly like a round loaf of bakery bread. He presented it with pride to a woman I assumed was his mom. She put down her magazine and said something I couldn’t hear, pointing to the rock. He looked at her to see if she’d say more, then nodded and left the rock with her. After checking in with the sand-building activities of the dad and three other kids, he went off in search of the next treasure.

Sure enough, after a bit, the boy had a similar rock and was making his way across the stony beach to present it to Mom. Again, she leaned forward and said something, and this time it produced a bit of conversation. Satisfied once again, he was off to repeat the ritual. Mom settled in to read. I was liking Mom.

I delayed my walk to see one more go-round. Shortly, the boy and another shiny bit of quartzite were en route to Mom. But this time she held up a finger to indicate that she was going to finish the paragraph. He waited, wriggling, until she put down her magazine and gave him her attention. Again, she made a comment, feeding his interest with, perhaps, a comment about the rock’s color or where it had come from.

But I was delighted to see the I’m-putting-you-on-hold finger because she knew how to draw boundaries. That finger said: I love you dearly, but I would like to read with fewer interruptions. So she was fully present to him — it makes me nuts when parents are unresponsive to their kids.

She was not slavishly attentive in that cloying, hovering, hyperpositive style that my friends and I call “California” child-rearing. No, this woman could be connected to her child and meet the needs of her grown-up self too. Lucky kid.

After their chat, the boy was satisfied and off again.

I was surprised to find myself so happy about coming across this little domestic scene, like unexpectedly hearing a favorite piece of music or finding a secret garden. I don’t often see good mothering in action, in public. I see parents being affectionate, but I also notice a lot of bad public parenting, mainly adults yelling and badgering kids in ways not likely to get them to cooperate. Some parents act as though their kids have every right to be obnoxious beasts around other people, as though it’s not their problem. And far too many parents spoil their kids, giving them the message that a public hissy fit will in fact get them what they want.

I left the boy in the blue trunks behind and had started my walk when a dad approached two kids, maybe 11 and 8, playing in the water, to announce that they could play for another 20 minutes, then the family would pack up and leave. The man had only about three words out of his mouth when the kids began a loud dissonant duet whose only lyric was “No!” They whined as he talked over it. He was brief. They’d all been in the sun enough for one day and “your mother and I have things we need to do.” He emphasized that the kids could spend the 20 minutes either playing or complaining — their choice — but the family was definitely leaving on schedule. He finished with: “Use it or lose it.”

Excellent parenting. These people knew that parents need a plan to get business accomplished, especially when it contradicts the kids’ wills. Opposing a kid’s will often leads to the kid putting up a fuss. Predictable, unwanted behavior needs a plan. The business of life must get done in the face of resistance, without the parents blowing up emotionally. The 20 minutes provided flexibility and respect for the kids’ desires, but it sounded like packing up and leaving would happen no matter how loud the whining. To say “Oh, OK, five more minutes” moves the boundary and invites more challenge. The dad knew he was going to run into opposition, thought about what he would say, and said it. He was not going to get angry. No need.

Finally, as though a good-parenting column were being dictated by divine forces, I heard a single, furious growl from an enraged pubescent. With a buzz cut and neon trunks, the kid, maybe 12, radiated venom even as he was gracefully gliding to shore on his wind-surfboard. Dad was standing in the surf with a larger board and sail. Maybe the kid was mad because Dad was driving him too hard. Maybe he was mad at himself. Hard to tell. Was this a good- or a bad-parenting story?

The kid jumped off the board, grabbed the mast and yanked it around to point back out to sea. He’d lost control and gotten off course. Once out in deeper water, the kid got back on the board with reasonable confidence, so this was not his first time out. He was learning. Dad stood silent and watched him wrestle with the equipment, until he offered advice, even as the boy’s rage burned hotter. With pursed lips, the boy let his dad guide him until each foot, hand and knee was in the proper position and he ceased to look all tangled up.

You could see his confidence spike, and while Dad was still giving instructions, the boy took off like the wind, in a gesture that felt as though he’d slammed a door in Dad’s face. Oooof, pubescents. They get so full of big feelings, they can hardly help taking them out on the people who most care about them. Resigned, the dad got on his own board and followed at a respectful distance. He didn’t give up on the kid and he didn’t get mad, or at least not out loud. Nor did he let the boy flounder when he needed more instruction. Dad had every right to be mad himself, but he chose not to let the feelings get in the way of what was ultimately a pretty successful lesson.

What a glorious thing is parenting when done right. No kid wants to clean or do homework, quit the beach when it’s fun, or be a good sport when they’re mad — yet that is often what’s needed. So the parent has to make it happen. Everyone wants to be liked all the time, but parents must learn to tolerate being the bad guy occasionally.

So to all parents who do the rarely acknowledged work of staying connected to a kid while getting the daily business done, thank you. Literally nothing is more important.

Julia Steiny, a former member of the Providence School Board, consults for government agencies and schools; she is co-director of Information Works!, Rhode Island’s school-accountability project. She can be reached at juliasteiny@cox.net , or c/o EdWatch, The Providence Journal, 75 Fountain St., Providence, RI 02902.