His head rests against the back of the chair,
eyes closed,
mouth slightly open,
the very tips of two teeth peeking out.
Under one thick wrist is a cotton receiving blanket, the print a jumble of baseball bats and hockey pucks and catchers' mitts. The other arm supports the white-diapered bum of a sleeping infant whose thick legs, like yeasty blobs of sturdy dough, are curled together on Daddy's denim lap. The little one's three-dimpled elbow is bent just slightly, his five-dimpled hand rests on Daddy's chest.
They breathe together and the little one, lashes pressed against smooth curved cheeks, contentedly draws peace from his pacifier.
1 comment:
Well done. Feels good to exercise, don't it.
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