This past Sunday night, our children’s choir led a program on the great hymns of the faith. Afterward, a nice gentleman approached me, and asked, “Was your kid the one up there in the gray shirt?”

I paused not because I didn’t remember if my kid was wearing a gray shirt under his choir robe, but because I wasn’t sure if I wanted to own whatever he was going to tell me. My husband is still away on business, so he wasn’t there for me to point to and say, “No, that’s his kid.”

I’m too tired to think up a new line.

I pushed the rewind button in my memory file, and I didn’t recall any of my children misbehaving in the choir loft. So I cautiously acknowledged the offspring as my own. “Well, I’ll be! Did you know that he knew every word to all the hymns?” [Not just the songs he was supposed to know.] ” I just watched him for my cues to sing.”

Gone are the days of quick getaway bedtime tunes like Twinkle, Twinkle.

I beamed with pride…and relief. Then, I pointed out all my other star pupils just in case he wanted to know. All the ones that were smiling sweetly at the moment anyway. If I had a penny Google share for every lady that cautions me to savor the moments because it “goes by so fast”, I could retire. Like The Donald.

Our days are fleeting, and they are numbered. My children will be gone from underfoot before I know it. I will look back and wonder how it went by so fast. (Polly-want-a-cracker? Repeat after me…) For now though, in this stage of motherhood, I’ll just be sure to file the good reports up front and within very close reach. And then, the days won’t seem so long.

kidschoir