I wasn't prepared.

In fact Fifi was barefoot and without a coat because I, already running late, hastily tossed her into the car seat just minutes after rudely wakening her from an afternoon slumber.  Accustomed to be handled in a hurry, she enthusiastically sang a song out of key inside the minvan parked at the elementary school pick-up line while I made mental copies of the emails flooding my blackberry.  Field Trip Wednesday.  RSVP to brunch.  "I made your Bigos!"  Read to kindergartners on Thursday.  Winterize sprinklers on Saturday.  Schedule doctor follow-up.  Collect my 5 million from the Nigerian government.  "I forwarded your horseback riding post to a friend." Gah.  The emails, some pointless and others incredibly warming, drowned out my daughter's sweet lyrics.

"Hurry.  Hurry.  Get in the car!"  I rolled down my car window and greeted my children.  "There's a line of cars behind us, also in a hurry."  I glanced behind me and noticed an enormous hockey bag in the passenger seat of the Volvo.  The car in front, loaded with more children than the Duggar's, was already pulling out of line while the mother frantically motioned her hands like a flight attendant designating seats.  "Let's go!"

"Where, Mom?  Where are we going?"

"I wanna go to Ka-go."  Fifi's inserted her standard answer.

"We are going home for a snack.  I need to make dinner. Than horse back riding.  After that Boy Scouts.  Let's go.... buckle up chickadees."

A mere three minutes later and off of school grounds I noticed the sun's rays perfectly aligned over our beloved meadow.  Not another human on site, not a playground around for miles, not even a trace of pavement for a bike and no toys to speak of.  Just.  An.  Empty.  Field. A most perfect pit stop to break up our hysterically over loaded day.

I manually opened up the doors of my entry level minivan, found some muddy boots in the trunk for the toddler and smiled, "Let's go..."

I watched as they skipped over flowers in amazement and in awe of how a child could make something so simple as a skip bring so much happiness.

I sat in my designer jeans once designated for posh clubs but now surrounded by damp earth and witnessed an impromptu craft of flower arranging turned competition.

And the smiles.  Dear Gawd.  The smiles.  Were so worth the delivery pizza for dinner tonight because I had no time to prepare anything at all.

If there is one thing I would like my children to remember about their childhood it's that we made frequent pit stops for smiles.  I hope they tuck the memories in their pockets and adopt the ideas as adults.  It's much healthier than pizza.