Around 6am each morning, a tinny rolling cry breaks through the monitor rousing me from my dreamstate. Finn is ready to start another day. A peak at the screen shows a black and white pixelated bundle with reflective eyes. I groggily pad over to his room. When I enter, he reaches his little fists up towards me. Palms open, shut, open, shut. He gathers a corner of his blue bunny lovey, rescuing it from the crib as I sweep him into my arms. For one long moment, I hug his body tight to me, nuzzling my nose into his neck and breathing deeply, kissing him between his pillowy cheek and shoulder. His little arms wrap around my neck, returning my embrace.

I hold him like this as we walk the few steps to our soft grey rocking chair. We plunk down, Finn’s body still cocooned in his circus-themed sleep sack. He nudges his head towards my chest to nurse as I rest mine against the chair, eyes shut.

Time stands still. His little hand occasionally slapping my chest lightly. He takes hold of my fingers moving them back and forth or pokes a pudgy digit into my mouth inspecting my teeth and smiling, amused when I open and close my mouth.

We switch sides and I start to unzip his blanket, slowly exposing his pajama-clad legs and bare toes to the cooler air while I cuddle him close. This little piggy went to the market and wee wee wee all the way home. He giggles from the corner of his mouth, still attached to my body, as the piggy arrives in it’s home under his arm, his chin, behind his ear.

When he’s satisfied, he sits up gurgling with a gap-toothed grin, swerves his head around and points to the hallway. I click the lamp on and we both blink as our eyes adjust. Just like that, the spell is broken and our day begins.