What would you do if you could make your dreams anything you wanted?
“Just one more minute.”
You hear the request every night. Your child lies in bed, tucked in right at bedtime, looking up at you with wide eyes. They clutch a book, or a device, or the story you were telling, or the light glowing beside them.
“Just one more minute, please.”
It’s such an innocent request at first, especially if you were telling them a story. Don’t go, stay with me. But as the nights roll on, the eyes get wider and more urgent, and the tone becomes more pleading. Then it becomes crying and begging.
“Just one more minute, before you die again,” your child says.