One day, you’ll stop sneaking into my room for late-night snuggles on a school night. She won’t need me to brush her hair anymore, and he won’t ask me to put gel in his.
One day, no one will ask me to brush their teeth. No one will want me to watch them jump on the trampoline or to check out the “cool tricks” that can be done on a scooter.
One day, it’ll be hard to remember all the struggles we faced daily and how I would cry myself to sleep because kids are hard to handle at times, and it’ll be just as hard to remember all the hilarious things you said on a daily basis.
One day, sooner rather than later, your school will teach you that eleventy seven million isn’t an actual number, and I’ll be sad.
One day, I’ll fumble through pictures of your childhood birthdays and wonder where all the time has gone. It’s already going by so fast.
So many things I’ve said “one day” to have already happened.
You don’t need me to wash your precious little body anymore, and now you want privacy in the bathroom. You no longer ask me to get things down for you because climbing is cooler than asking for help.
The one day has come when you would rather go be with friends than hang out with mom sometimes. Sleepovers are cooler than campouts in the living room, and snuggles get boring quite quickly.
For now, I’ll enjoy all the things you still let me do and dread the day when they end.
One day, you’ll grow up . . .
One day, it’ll hit me that it happened.
I love you, my babies.
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