Tuesday is errand day. Tuesday is laundry day. Tuesday is also the day I saw him.

As a typical working mother, I am doing three things at once while mentally planning what's for dinner, who has soccer practice tonight and what e-mail did I forget to send.

A recent Tuesday was one of those summer days in Minnesota that we dream about in mid-February. Yes, last winter was unusually lengthy and brutal.

I remember gazing out my kitchen window on Valentine's Day thinking "what sun-forsaken tundra am I living in?" Which is why one would think I would revel in a picture-perfect day in July: pack a picnic lunch, take the kids to the beach, maybe even sit on the porch while enjoying a glass of lemonade.

But, no, it was Tuesday, after all. Things needed to be done. If I didn't do them, life would stop as we knew it. Yet there he was. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of a boy, maybe 12 years old, fishing by the shore.

I thought, "Good for him," while I sped past on my way to Target. My mind went back to my early teen years and to the fun our family had fishing at the lake cabin. But my reminiscing soon was swept out and replaced by more important matters.

Returning home from Target, I spied this same boy riding home on his bike, fishing pole balanced over the handle bars and bucket in the one hand while he navigated down the street away from the lake. He stayed in my mind only until I remembered that I forgot that it was my daughter's turn to provide drinks after soccer tonight.

As I headed back out, this time for juice boxes, I saw him again. Like they say, the third time's a charm. This time I was at a stop sign.

He was still on his bike, and he was still carrying the bucket. Approaching the crosswalk, he slowed to look at me. Oh, no, I thought. I know that look. It's the look I've seen many days as a junior-high teacher. It's the look that comes right before a student does something mischievous.

And then he did it. As he rode in front of my car, he reached into the bucket, turned to me and triumphantly scooped a fish up in his hand, holding it above his head as he smiled at me. That wasn't a menacing look. I had misread it. It was a "Wow, look at what I did! Isn't this a great day?"

Yep, Tuesday was a great day. This young boy reminded me that here in Minnesota perfect summer days are not for running around town in order to make my house spotless, prepare a gourmet dinner or even to supply a sports team with drinks. Nope, this little fisherman reminded me to stop and smell the roses.

They say "and a little child shall lead them," and lead me he did. Right to the rocking chair on my porch with a cold glass of lemonade to enjoy the rest of the afternoon. I fell for his message hook, line and sinker.

Dawn Quigley, of Forest Lake, is a wife, mother and teacher.