They grow so fast

My youngest wants to sleep on the couch. My husband, wants to write without the threat of interruption. I call to my boy who flat-foots it forlornly into my bedroom and flops down on the bed. I too, wish to write, but the sight of him - fading hints of baby chub, broadening shoulders, developing biceps, makes my heart ache for toddler he no longer is. He understands. He is creative himself and hates to be interrupted mid-creation, but it stings him to be told it's bedtime. I hold him close to me for a hug. He breathes deeply and tells me he loves the smell of my hair. "Just a few minutes Mom, so I can relax, please?" I acquiesce. Someday I will be old and he will be off on his own life, and I will think, "please son? So I can relax?"