Mornings are a rush. There are showers to take, clothes to put on, breakfasts to eat, coffee to drink, lunches to pack, teeth to brush, hair to comb, shoes to tie and jackets to don. It’s like herding cats. Only these cats will spontaneously put their underwear on their head, whine about their food and generally move slower than this father would prefer.

The phrase, “Let’s Go!” is uttered over and over. And it never sounds like an encouraging cheer. Instead, it sounds like an imploring plea of, “Let’s Goooooooo!” This is often followed by a “We’re gonna be late for the bus!” or a “I’m gonna make you walk to school if we miss that bus!”

But, invariably, we hop out the front door between 8:00 and 8:05 a.m. each and every school day. And as we open the door and the cool air hits our faces, we hunker down for the short walk to the bus stop. It’s at this point that I know we won’t be late and we relax and enjoy the walk. Swee’Pea and TheMonk pull their little backpacks on wheels that is often filled with nothing more than a completed book list and that day’s lunch and snack.

Along the walk we notice many things. We notice new gopher holes in our neighbor’s lawn, snails making a run for it across the sidewalk, newly fallen leaves, brightly colored trash and the occasional roly poly.

But what I notice is how big my kids are becoming.

Which is why, as we walk along in the solitude of the morning, I smile to myself when Swee’Pea reaches up to hold my hand as we walk along the sidewalk. Or when TheMonk continues to hold my hand after we cross our one and only street along the way. I smile because I know one day soon – too soon – my kids won’t want to hold Daddy’s hand anymore. Someday soon, I’ll have only the faint memories of holding hands smaller than mine and wondering where the time went. The cruelty of parenthood baring it’s teeth.

Yes, I’ll try to hold onto these memories because someday it’s all I’ll have. Well, that and underwear on the head.