My wife and I had just turned out the light the other night when our youngest called on FaceTime.

She’d just wrapped up her first full week at college, a few hours’ drive from home, and she was missing us

It’s not like she hadn’t already called a few times that week. But as tired as we were, of course we took the call.

This is the kid I built one of the first LEGO Minecraft sets with. I think it was The First Night shelter. Or maybe it was The Farm? And, of course, there were countless LEGO Friends sets over the years.

The last set I remember her building was the BrickHeadz Spice Girls set. That was long after she’d gotten rid of most of her childhood LEGO collection. But she still has the LEGO Friends Yacht tucked away somewhere. (Ours eventually included LEGO Batman floating alongside it in his rubber ducky floaty, because apparently Gotham’s greatest crime fighter needed a vacation.)

And recently, she’s been checking out the new Olivia Rodrigo LEGO sets.

Things change. But sometimes they don’t change quite as much as we think.

I have LEGO-building memories with each of our four children, along with countless other memories of playtime, vacations, school days, movie nights, adventures, ordinary afternoons, and all the other little things that somehow become part of a family’s story.

I’ve heard parents talk about having a favorite stage.

“The baby stage was my favorite.”

“I loved the toddler years.”

“Teenagers are the best.”

I’ve always tried to approach it a little differently. I’ve tried to embrace each stage while we were in it and enjoy it for what it was.

I was by no means a perfect parent. Somewhere along the way, though, I realized that I’m on a human growth path just like my kids are.

I’ve tried to be honest, transparent, and straightforward with them. I’ve tried to learn from my mistakes. And when I’ve realized I was wrong or discovered that I needed to change, I’ve tried to let my kids see that part, too.

Parents are still growing up in some ways, even while we’re helping our kids grow up.

And wow, do they grow up fast.

Three of our four kids now live away from home for most of the year.

And yes, there are some nice things about having a quieter house.

We’re not rushing everyone out the door for school in the morning. We’re not helping with homework in the evening, trying to get somebody to do their chores, or figuring out how to get one kid to a practice while another needs to be somewhere else—all while trying to keep up with our own jobs and responsibilities.

Those days could be exhausting.

But now it’s pretty wonderful when everyone manages to come home and we’re all together again.

If you’re still in the middle of those busy days, it can be easy to spend so much time focused on getting everything done and getting everyone where they need to go that you overlook just how extraordinary this very ordinary time really is.

You have these kids.

You get to be part of their lives.

You get to watch them discover things. You get to build with them, laugh with them, teach them, learn from them, get frustrated with them, apologize to them, cheer for them, and watch them slowly become themselves.

Being a parent is an enormous privilege—and an enormous opportunity to grow, to love, and to help mentor another little human.

It isn’t always easy.

It certainly isn’t always fun.

And in the middle of a busy Tuesday afternoon when somebody can’t find their shoes, there’s LEGO all over the floor, dinner needs to be made, and you’re already running ten minutes late, you probably aren’t going to stop and think, I’m going to miss this someday.

But every once in a while, when you can, notice it.

Build the set.

Listen to the story.

Take the picture.

And when the phone rings late at night after you’ve already turned out the light?

Take the call.

Because they grow up so fast.