The last time

Last week, we were in the middle of chaos moving into the new house.  The kids had had about their 14th consecutive night being up far past bedtime.  Nerves were frayed. Everyone was overtired.  I got the kids in the bath and my eyes were on the prize: bedtime.

I got Hudson and Amelia out of the girls’ bathtub, and inbetween reminding Hudson to brush is teeth and wrangling Amelia to get her pj’s on, I heard Porter yell for me to look at him.  I peek across the hall and acknowledge him and his silliness.  He says to me “Take my picture, mom!”
I sighed.  My phone was downstairs.  I wanted everyone in bed.  I began to tell him no and then I paused.  No. These moments are going by too fast.  They’re growing up so fast.  How do I know this won’t be the last time he ever asks me to take a silly picture of him in the bathtub?  How sad will I feel if I pass up this opportunity in my hands to document these fleeting moments of childhood that he is so quickly outgrowing?
So I told him to hang on. I ran downstairs and got my phone.  So worth it.  So. Worth it.

 

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