I had one of those moments on Sunday.

The kind they always tell you to savor.
Because it might be the last.

My daughter was bored.
She wanted help being un-bored.
But every one of the 50 things I suggested? Hard no.

Cue the tears. The whining. The full performance.

Normally, I would walk away. Let her figure it out.
But for some reason, I stayed.
I was in the mood to pay attention.

We sat on the couch and cuddled, but that wasn’t cutting it.
I glanced across the room at the glider and thought, Maybe…

So I scooped her up like a toddler, straddled on my lap, turned off the light, and we rocked.

No more crying.
No more complaining.
No more fussing.

Just rocking.
And then… 😴

She was out.
And I just kept rocking.

My arm fell asleep. I almost did too.
But I didn’t want to move.

I didn’t know how long she’d sleep.
I wanted to grab my phone and take a picture—capture it.
But I was afraid to jostle her.
Or, more realistically, drop the phone on her face.

So I just held her.
And rocked.
And memorized the moment.
All 25 minutes of it.
Because it might be the last time.

I read once that we never know when it’s the last time:

The last time you brush her hair.
The last time you nurse him.
The last time you push them in a stroller (that’s a story for another time).
The last time you rock her to sleep.

The years are short. The days are long.
But it’s these moments that burn into my memory forever.

💭 Have you had a “maybe the last time” moment recently?
I’d love to hear about it in the comments — or share this with someone who needs a reminder to slow down and savor the small stuff.

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