A while ago, my 6-year-old daughter and I were reading a hilarious book, "Fancy Nancy," by Jane O'Connor and Robin Preiss Glasser.

Nancy thinks her family is not fancy enough, using boring words and everyday clothes, so she decides to "fancy" them up.

In the book, the family goes along with the plan and hits a burger place each dressed to the nines.

You know what's coming. My sweet daughter with the Cindy-Lou-Who big blue eyes and dappled freckles looked up at me and said, "Let's be Fancy Nancies!"

It was decided we would go diva the next Saturday and go out for breakfast looking our finest.

That morning we pulled out our best, with my daughter supervising all clothing choices.

She settled on a beautiful Sunday dress, accompanied by black high-heeled boots and topped it off with pearls.

I lent her my old faux leopard skin eyeglass case as a purse, and she announced she was positively "fancy."

She then outfitted me in my best shoes and fanciest outfit (appropriate for a cruise banquet, not for brekkie), ensuring my hair was just the right bouffant. In a moment of whimsy, I added a pink feather boa.

Truly, that morning was one of the best times we've had together.

I initially prayed no one would be at the restaurant and then ignored the looks of the few that were there.

The entire time I focused on my chatty, adorable, fancy girl who was completely in her element. We played tic-tac-toe, swapped French toast and eggs, and shared thoughts about what it's like being a mom.

She said being a mom is great because you get to go on dates with your husband and scrapbook and have nice shoes. I said being a mom is great because you get to go on fancy girl's days out with your daughter, AND, you get to cuddle at naptimes, eat chocolate anytime you want, and compel your children to praise your cooking.

Of course, I didn't mention the thousands of diaper changes, sleep deprivation for 15 years, and need to be a Jane-of-all-trades at any given moment — I figured I'd save that for another time.

As we drove home she said this was the best day ever. For both of us it surely was.

For just a moment, think back to when you last did something funny, goofy or spontaneous with your children.

What were you doing? What was the feeling? How long ago was it? We adults can get pretty serious about our child-rearing, and before you know it, we're old fogies. Suddenly, we don't want to wrestle — it hurts our bunions. We don't want to play ball — it aggravates our joints. We don't want to do Play-doh because it's messy, or fingerpaint because it's catastrophic.