You look at your precious baby boy sweetly sleeping and feel like you could stare at him all day. You watch his every move. You smile when he smiles and try to solve whatever might make him cry. You want him to know how much you love him.
But then you blink.
And your baby boy becomes a man. He’s putting on his cap and gown, figuring out how to cope with the stress of last-minute projects, laughing deeply with friends, and excitedly planning his next moves out in the world.
You hear everybody say “It goes too fast!” and “Enjoy every moment!” and you nod your head and think you will make the most of it all. But you forget during the weeks of interrupted sleep, the agony of potty-training, the extreme busyness of toddlerhood, the discipline, the struggles of homework, all the teaching moments, the life-lessons of teenage years, and the testing of boundaries and becoming independent. You remind yourself to soak in the smiles, giggles, cuddles, kisses, accomplishments, homemade cards, and telling of stories. You want him to know how much you love him.
But then you blink.
And your baby boy becomes a man, with a voice you don’t recognize and opinions of his own. He’s confident, funny, independent, smart, mostly self-sufficient, and makes you proud.
You can’t go back and do it all over again, though you wish you could have just one day more with his heavy head on your shoulders or him asking you to snuggle, promising you that “it will be cozy.” As much as you would like to stop time for a while, you don’t really want him to stop becoming the man he’s supposed to be and you look forward to seeing where he’ll go and what adventures he’ll have. You decide to be in the present and fully appreciate the new memories made and the few precious moments he can spare between work and school and friends. You want him to know how much you love him.
But then you blink.
