Five More Minutes

“Five more minutes.” This is my older son’s habitual plea as my husband and I deposit him in bed each night, entreating us to stay with him as he falls asleep. New to the world of “big boy” novelties—a toddler bed and Lightning McQueen underwear chief among them—this request is one of the few remaining traces of his fast-disappearing babyhood. To be honest, I sometimes resent the request. As a stay at home mom, I am seldom without my children. The rare moments when they’re both asleep are sacred; I…

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