Every once in a while God hands us an opportunity to step back and take things in, admiring them for what they are. In fact, we refer to them this month as "May flowers."

It's our job to recognize those chances and make the most of them, stopping to smell those flowers from time to time. Those days for me are Tuesdays and Thursdays, and they are quickly slipping away.

No, Tuesday and Thursday aren't being removed from the calendar due to downsizing or corporate cutbacks. But those two days are the ones that allow me a chance to spend the morning with my daughter and then put her on the bus — and there are only eight left between now and the end of the school year.

The word "nostalgic" can't begin to describe the lump in my throat, watery eyes or quiver in my lip when I begin to think about having to share her with the rest of the world … again.

Those are our days.

Most times they are spent putting my son on the bus and then executing our big "plan" for the day, which often includes a trip to one of our local restaurants and then an activity or two before rushing her off to afternoon kindergarten.

Thursdays have become more special with the addition of a piano lesson at 10 a.m. I think what makes the lesson so special is the way we practice beforehand. Our version of a duet includes Mia playing the song correctly and me making up words to fit the music. Most times the words refer to stinky boys, crazy cats and bodily functions that make her laugh so hard she misses notes.

I don't want to share that with my son or wife — at least not yet.

Last week we added someone else to our routine and I'm OK with the addition.

Mia thought that it would be cool if we could pick up her newest best friend, Brooke, on Tuesday.

How could anyone say no to such a sweet request, coming from their best girl?

So now Brooke will have the chance to see inside our little, special, fragile world — one that has more inside jokes than a fraternity house and provides a gentle balance between teachable moments, caring and allowing exploration.

On our first trip with Brooke last Tuesday, the girls chose to head to the mall to play on the inside equipment (it was still cold and rainy then) and then go to lunch in Cranberry before I took them to the dreaded "detention center." … I mean school.

We pulled into the parking lot and as we were getting out of the car, we were greeted by none other than Brooke's mom and her work associate.

"Hey! What are the chances of meeting you guys here! This is too weird."

She was right. Cranberry only has 4,576 restaurants and about 100,000 patrons during lunch. The odds were about the same as me getting drafted by the Steelers this year.

"Why don't you join us?" I offered. Within five minutes we were seated and chatting away, with the exception of me.

Instead, I was taking it all in, allowing the moment God had provided as a backdrop to remind me just how good things really can be. Sometimes the greatest pleasure is watching others enjoy the benefit of your own good fortune, which was what happened last week.

The lunch went too quickly, hugs were exchanged and the girls were loaded into my car.

"Christian, thank you. And by the way, you really have a good thing going," said Brooke's mom.

If she only knew how good I have it. I hope to keep the May flowers as long as I can.

Christian Ola, a community columnist for the Butler Eagle, resides in Mars with his wife, son and daughter and can be reached at christianolacaol.com.