Don't hurry someday

I find myself wishing for "someday" to come, but unfortunately the progress of time doesn't stop when you reach that point you were waiting for.

Someday  ...


Someday he will poop in a potty, and I will be entirely uninvolved.
Someday he will rise to an alarm clock and get ready for work - in a house that is not mine, in another town or state.

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Someday he will drink enough milk without bribery, trickery or cajoling.
Someday he will encourage me to take vitamin D and calcium, perhaps a can of Ensure.

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Someday he will eat a vegetable.
Someday he will order asparagus with hollandaise in a fancy restaurant, sitting across the table from someone he cares about - while I am at home watching Jeopardy.

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Someday he'll make a friend.
Someday I will not be the first person he calls when something big happens.

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Someday he'll get himself dressed.
Someday he'll wear a suit that was not of my choosing, or purchasing, to an event I'm not attending.

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Someday he'll stop trying to break the computer.
Someday I'll ask him to come over and teach me how to use, or fix, the computer.

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Someday he'll learn to entertain himself a little.
Someday an entire day, or more, will go by where I won't hear his voice.

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Someday he'll stop having tantrums in public places.
Someday I'll embarrass him.

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Someday he'll stop being terrified of the doctor.
Someday he'll offer to come with me to a doctor's appointment where I am terrified.

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Time's a horrible thing.  Too slow in getting to where I want to be, too fast in getting where I don't want to go.