There's peanut butter and jelly smeared on your face, coffee in my hand, markers spread out across the table, remnants left behind from dad's quick stop home before heading out until the dark hours of the night, Jon Foreman playing in the background, and here we sit. Just you and me. You smile at me with your perfectly white little teeth each with a gap in between the other and I cannot help but smile back. It's a Thursday morning. And this is our everyday.

These are the mornings I'm reminded how lucky I am, how lucky I am to have you, how lucky I am to spend my days in and out with you. All the while your dad is hard at work to make this our reality.

Laundry in the corner, dishes in the sink, toys strewn about, you make this mess beautiful.