You are beautiful (it's true).

Early morning.

He sat at his little table in the kitchen, legs crossed, eating granola, face lighting up as his beloved older sister walked in.

”How are you doing?” He asked her. “How was your day…how is your night-day going?”

”Good,” she asked, a smile cracking her sleepy face.

He looked at her carefully, assessing and examining before pronouncing his opinion; an opinion that is fact.

”You are beautiful.” He said to her, returning to his granola.

Her grin blasted ear to ear, as did mine.

Three brothers reading a book outside on a wintery-day. Why not?

Mid-morning.

”Let’s go eat a snack and find some books,” I said, tugging him along.

Tears began pooling in his eyes and he pulled away.

”What is it?” I said.

“Daddy,” he said, fighting back tears. “I didn’t ask how their day was going?”

”You mean the library staff?” I asked.

”Yes,” he said, valiantly struggling against the downpour.

“Bud,” I said, “we can do that. We just need to wait our turn in line.”

So we did, and the sun brightened.

Mid-later morning.

”I had a little sleep,” he said, rubbing his eyes and rousing himself from car seat. “Did you get a little rest, Dada?”

“No.” I said, holding his squirming wide-awake five-month brother in the front seat of our parked car. “No, I did not.”

Unrelated.

I had a short conversation with a mother who was poring through a book on sourdough bread. She has a couple interests to keep from getting bored, aside from raising children. “Just something to do for myself,” she said.

I thought of how lucky I am to be married to who I am married to.