He doesn’t sleep in the morning. He seems to absorb his older brother’s relentless early-to-rise energy and there’s just too much of everything – too much excitement, too much noise, too much daylight.
I’ve turned off the lights this morning. With big brother out of the house it’s quiet. There is snow falling.
He lies in my arms now, head in the crook of my elbow. My left wrist and forearm are numb, but I won’t put him down. Not yet. His eyes are closed and ringed by soft, pale lashes. His sweet mouth is open. Babies’ lips are beautiful.
His tummy is pressed to mine, and he sleeps.
