Barreling down the 101 freeway in Los Angeles, I nearly slammed on my brakes when my 10-year-old son yelled, “I don’t want to do this anymore! This is your dream, not mine!” On the seat next to him were the pages for a script he should have memorized, but he’d argued that it didn't matter. To me, a semi-retired actor, it did matter. It mattered a lot. He was auditioning for a lead role in a feature film, so he’d need to give 100%. I looked in the rear-view mirror at his face, which showed no