It was just 10 minutes. For the rest of the morning, one of us played outside with her, while the other took a close friend through the Barnes Foundation in Merion, PA,

but maybe she'll remember walking into the center gallery, with Matisse's mural arching overhead, and maybe she'll remember being surrounded by masterworks of every size:

"See the paintings?" I whisper.

"mmm-hmm."

"Can you find the swan?"

Looks around. "It's over there!" She sort-of-whispers, drawing amused looks from the other patrons. Pointing at Cezanne's Leda and the Swan.

"What about the bull?"

Looks around again. "There!" Right in front of her - a giant Picasso in rich reds and browns.

A few more minutes of that and she was outside, racing around the gardens with one parent and then the other. Much to the gratitude of the museum staff and guests, I'm sure. And maybe she won't remember, except when she visits the Barnes collection in its hip new place a few years later.

But I'll remember.