Little boys grow up when we're not looking

I like to check out blogs that I just happen to come across. I "lurk." This poem comes from another blog that I follow. I love this thought:

When he grows up, I don't think he'll recall how, on a sapphire morning in the Fall, dust bunnies tumbled up and down the stair, and smudges lined the woodwork here and there, While he and I ran hand in hand together carefree, into the bright October weather. I hope my son looks back upon today and sees a parent who had time to play whether the work was done, or it was not, who realized chores are sometimes best forgot. There will be years ahead for cleaning house and cooking, but little boys grow up when we're not looking.
by Ear Paffrath