A long skinny foot poking out of my side. I can feel the shape of it, toes and all. I’ve bought socks for that foot; he just doesn’t need them yet.
A fluffy little peanut head poking out of his duvet. I lean over, push the scrappy hair off his forehead and say the mantra I say every night.
Henry sleep well. Doggy sleep well.
I’ll see you in the morning.
I love you, my darling.
He beams, and beams, and beams. A row of little peg teeth in the half-dark.
Banana milkshake. Lasagne that came out right, for once. The short hair on the back of Timothy’s head.
A fresh day tomorrow.