We rock in the rocking chair. I thump your back while you make Tarzan sounds. We watch the fishes swim. The blue fish swims fast. The orange fish dance. And look at the ghost shrimp swim with his funny little legs. You rest your heavy head against my collarbone and say “But I not tired!” And cry a little whiney cry as you yawn. I tell you that I’m tired and we’re gonna rock for a bit. You wipe boogers on my arm. I don’t care, that’s what soap and water are for. I kiss you a dozen times. Eventually you stop complaining and drool on me instead. Sorta gross, sorta sweet. Whatever. Life is short and you’re a stinkerbutt and I love you. Drool and boogers, too.
(You’re almost three. Usually you fall asleep on your own. Sometimes you need some extra help with a nap. I’m fine with that.)