Saturday in the Kingdom 

I am surrounded by three sleeping boys:

The little milk-face in my lap.

The canine cuddled on the couch across the living room.

And the Dad, sleeping in our bed upstairs.
His coffee gets cold on the kitchen counter. Mine gets cold in front of me, forgotten as usual as I read.

I am the only one awake as the sun glimmers in the haze on a beautifully March morning. It’s still below freezing outside, but there is hope. A potential 60* for my birthday next week. And, eventually, summer.
Le chien gets down and paces some more. He hasn’t been out yet. 
I look down from my phone into this little muffin’s sleeping face and admire, as always, his eyelashes, brows, funny little hairline. I can’t believe how much he’s grown since he was born.
Milkface wakes up, his great big eyes looking around us.
The dog gets up again and walks upstairs to inform his boy he needs to go out. Or perhaps to lay back down and guard his human’s sleeping form.
Milkface smiles, cozy against my breast.
It’s Saturday in the kingdom. All is calm. All is right.

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