“Just five more minutes.”
This is my eldest son’s nightly ritual, a plea as my partner and I tuck him into bed. As he transitions into the realm of “big boy” excitement—complete with a racecar bed and superhero pajamas—this request is one of the few remnants of his fleeting toddler years. Admittedly, I sometimes feel a twinge of annoyance. As a stay-at-home dad, I’m rarely without my children. Those rare, quiet moments when both kids are asleep are sacred to me. I often sit in their rooms, counting down our five-minute pact while mentally planning my next move. I envision curling up on the couch, remote in hand, savoring a glass of wine while indulging in some mindless entertainment, free from the demands of parenthood.
Yet, as I sit beside his bed, watching him wiggle and squirm, I can’t help but ponder how quickly this phase is passing. I know the days of him asking for those last five minutes will soon be replaced with different requests.
Growing Up
At age six, he’ll beg for five more minutes to stay outside with his neighbor, even if they’ve had their squabbles. After a day of being cooped up at school, I’ll allow it, knowing childhood is a fleeting time.
Fast forward to age eleven, and I’ll find myself in a morning battle over his insistence on sleeping for just five more minutes. I’ll remind him of the last time he did that, missing the bus, and how he can’t afford to repeat that mistake unless he wants to walk to school. While part of me will look forward to when he can drive himself, another part will ache at the loss of that dependency.
By seventeen, he’ll be out with his girlfriend, texting me for five more minutes despite being late for curfew. I’ll remember my own teenage years filled with stolen moments and will text back, “Finish the movie, but be home by eleven.”
The Future
Eventually, he’ll head off to college, no longer needing me for daily tasks, only occasionally asking me to keep the washing machine ready for his visits home. My days will fill with errands and the busy schedules of my other kids, but I’ll always have my phone close by, hoping for a call during his walk back to the dorm.
Years later, when he visits with his own family, our home will be alive with the sounds of children—the laughter and chaos I often yearn for. I’ll see bits of him in his kids, from the way his daughter tilts her head when she’s deep in thought to the striking resemblance of my grandson’s features to his father’s.
As the time comes for them to leave, I’ll feel the familiar pang of longing. “Can you stay just a little longer?” I might ask, unable to resist.
“Sure, Mom. Five more minutes,” he’ll reply, and even if he’s simply humoring me as he prepares to return to his busy life, those five minutes will be more comforting than he could ever know.
Additional Resources
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Summary
This article reflects on the fleeting moments between a parent and child, encapsulating the evolution of their relationship from bedtime requests to teenage independence. Each five-minute interaction embodies the bittersweet nature of growing up and the cherished memories that accompany it.