At ease in a threadbare rocking chair

gently gliding through the steady hum of the white noise machine,

the bedroom illuminated only by the soft hallway light spilling under the door,

I idle in the familiar evening routine,

subtly patting my baby’s bottom

willing him to sleep…

From the stairs, a clambering sound!

It signals the nightly invasion.

Dread sets in as two shadows cut through the calm pool of light.

The feet that created them approach their intended target.

I tense up, defensively, as I do each time,

ready to thwart the attack

of the five-year-old boy,

desperate to break in

and smother his brother with kisses.

I hear, instead,

the faintest of whispers:

I love you.

***