Some mornings...

The alarm goes off.  My arm snaps out to shut it off and I roll away from the small knees that are pressed firmly in the small of my back. He stirs, turns over. I creep out of bed and into the dark bathroom.

My jogging clothes are laying next to the tub.  I pull them on and try to bring my brain out of the fog of sleep. Thinking about which show I'd like to watch when I hop on the treadmill, I don't notice the door open. But then he's there.  Eyes not quite open, footie pajamas a little twisted on his slender body.  He's not ready to be up for the day, but if I am, he won't lay back down.

So I shut off the light.  Pick him up in my arms.  Carry him back to our bed, where he curls into my frame. For a moment I regret the run that won't be happening.  Then he kisses my forehead, and sighs.

 I kiss him back. There's nowhere I'd rather be.