Coco, I have to admit that time really does fly by too fast. Every time you learn something new and make progress, I’m proud, but I feel like I’m losing you—like I have to say goodbye to the baby you were just yesterday. You’re a little boy now, but for how long? To try to get through all these little goodbyes, I’ve made a promise to myself: to make the most of every moment I spend with you.
When you fall asleep in my arms, I’ll rock you for just one more minute and stay snuggled up against you.
Because one day, you’ll prefer to go to bed at 3 a.m., and I won’t be there to tuck you in.
When you ask me for another bedtime story, I’ll pick up another book and read it to you—just one more minute.
Because one day, you’ll prefer to fall asleep next to someone else.
When you beg me not to drop you off at daycare in the morning, I’ll hold your little hand in mine for one more minute.
Because one day, you’ll be happy to leave home and you’ll prefer to be with your friends.
When you say “one more time” so I’ll sing your favorite nursery rhyme—even if it’s the eighth time—I’ll sing it again and watch you smile as you hum along, one more time.
Because one day, I know I’ll only talk to you for a few minutes on the phone, two or three times a month.
When you need help with your homework, I’ll sit right beside you and explain it to you—just one more time.
Because one day, you’ll know more than I do, and you won’t need me anymore.
When you ask me to stay so we can play at the park or the beach—even if we’ve been there for hours—we’ll stay just one more minute.
Because one day, we’ll have a really hard time convincing you to come along on our outings.
When you want us to listen to the same song for the 15th time in the car, I’ll put it on repeat so it plays a few more times.
Because one day, you’ll have your own car and you’ll be singing at the top of your lungs to music I probably won’t like.
When you ask me to watch your favorite cartoon for the thousandth time—even if I’d rather watch my show—I’ll put it on for you, once again.
Because one day, you won’t be living with us anymore, and I’ll have all the time in the world to watch TV by myself.
When you beg me to stay with you after a nightmare, I’ll stay with you just one more minute.
Because one day, you won’t even be sleeping under my roof anymore.
As long as it’s possible, I’ll always stay just one more minute. When you’re all grown up, I know I’ll want to give anything to press my heart against yours and stroke your hair—just one more little minute.