The baby was squalling, and it's with a groan that you roll over in bed and give a prod to the person curled up against you. "Your turn, hon," you mumble through a yawn you can't quite stifle with the back of your hand. And like always, he gives no argument, even if maybe, this time, it was actually your turn to get up to check on your son. The bed dips as he shifts to sit, turning around long enough to give a kiss to your forehead before he disappears out the room.
The crying quiets moments later, and when he doesn't return immediately, you crawl from the bed, a blanket clutched around your shoulders. Padding into the nursery, you watch from the doorway as he sings quietly to your son, rocking back and forth on bare feet. And right then, even though things aren't the way you imagined them, you can't help but fall in love all over again with both of them.