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"It all goes by so quickly."

Today I stumbled across a worn out notebook that had made its way home from my daughter's cubby at school. Though the binding was torn and some pages tattered, I opened it and flipped through the lined pages. As I read the journal entries, soon I was sighing, smiling, hooting with laughter.

It was Annie's journal from the 3-year-old room last year. Somehow it had made the transition to the 4-year-old room cubby, where it remained buried under extra underpants, sweatshirts and stray artwork.

When I say Annie's journal, I guess I should clarify lest those of you who are competitive parents think she was writing in a journal at the ripe old age of 3.

My daughter's preschool has a lovely tradition where the child's primary teacher (there are three per room who are each responsible for a group of about 8 students) writes in each kid's journal about once a week.

Flipping through the journal entries from over a year ago, I am struck by how her Alpha personality jumps off the page. Her teacher writes:

Annie "read" her book Aladdin to her friends today, but had to make sure they were all listening. If they got up she told  them to sit back down and they listened to her. Maybe we should have her do circle time.

For an instant I feel that panic of mommy-inferiority: I should be journaling also, chronicling my daughter's every utterance. Someday she will be grown. How will I remember all the cute things she said or did as a child?

Then I lighten up on myself. Well, at the very least, I must somehow preserve this journal in a safe place to be brought out at distant birthdays, weddings or graduations and read aloud again. Savored.

For even after only 4 years of parenting, I know that the old adage is absolutely true.

It all goes by so quickly.