Last night, I tucked the Bub into bed, laid down beside her, hugged her as she chatted about what happened during the day. She’s getting bigger for sure and her weight on my arm is not something I can probably take much longer, worse when she wriggled around, adding more weight on to my arm.
Me: Sophie, stop moving please. Mama’s arm hurts.
Bub: Why, Mama?
Me: Cos Mama is old already, I can’t take so much pain these days.
Bub: <whimpers> I don’t want Mama to grow old!
Well, neither do I, Sophie, neither do I.
At that moment when I heard my child say she doesn’t want me to grow old, I wished I had the power to stop time so that she will remain as my little girl as well.
Time indeed is so very precious.