A Night with Daddy
It was late, and the house was steeped in the kind of silence that only comes after a long day. The moonlight spilled softly through the bedroom curtains, bathing the room in a silver glow. In the middle of the big bed, nestled among pillows and blankets, little Max, a chubby-cheeked nine-month-old, wriggled next to his dad.
James, Max’s father, had just finished reading a bedtime story. Well, tried to, anyway. Max had spent most of the time grabbing the book and babbling excitedly, his tiny fingers pawing at the pages like they held some grand secret. Now, Max was lying on his back, staring up at James with his wide, curious eyes that seemed to ask a thousand unspoken questions.
James chuckled, brushing a strand of soft, fine hair away from Max’s forehead. “You’re supposed to be asleep, buddy,” he whispered, though his tone betrayed that he didn’t mind one bit.
Max responded with a delighted squeal, reaching up to grab James’s nose. His little hands, still learning how to grip, latched on with surprising determination. James pretended to groan in exaggerated pain, which sent Max into a fit of giggles.
“Okay, okay, you win,” James said, freeing his nose and leaning down to blow a raspberry on Max’s round tummy. The baby’s laughter echoed through the room like the sweetest music, filling the quiet space with warmth.
After a few more minutes of tickles and giggles, Max began to slow down, his tiny body growing heavy with the pull of sleep. James shifted onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow as he watched his son.
“Do you know how much I love you?” James murmured, his voice soft and steady. Max blinked up at him, his eyes drooping but still holding that spark of wonder.
James began to hum a lullaby, his deep voice blending with the gentle rustle of leaves outside. Max’s little hand found its way to James’s chest, resting there as his eyelids finally gave in. His breathing grew slow and even, the rise and fall of his tiny chest matching the rhythm of his father’s.
For a while, James didn’t move. He just lay there, watching his baby boy sleep. In that moment, the world outside seemed to fade away. The only thing that mattered was the quiet connection between a father and his son.
Finally, James pressed a gentle kiss to Max’s forehead. “Goodnight, little man,” he whispered, pulling the blankets up around them both.
As the moonlight kept its quiet vigil, father and son drifted into a peaceful slumber, their hearts beating in perfect harmony.
