Today you and Dad came home with sniffly noses; you came barging through the door with coughs and pitiful looks.
Dinner was just coming out of the oven. Then, a puzzle and bath. When we tucked you in--Dad rubbing your back and me, next to you, squeezed in tight--when we tucked you in, you were asleep as your head hit the pillow.
I love to lie next to you when you have just fallen asleep.
So many of my words about you these days seem to reflect my night writing habit. I am trying to find the light.