“Where is Mum-Mum’s nose?”

Liam’s chubby index finger sneaks out from under his sheets and gently pokes the tip of my nose. His skin smells like apple juice and talcum powder. He smiles at me from behind his thumb which is nestled in the roof of his mouth. (Somewhere, our future orthodontist cackles and orders up a Space Shuttle.)

This is my favorite time of day with Liam. He’s peaceful and unguarded, personality #17. There are no little brothers lurking about threatening to steal his toys or my attention. He’s reclined and vulnerable on his bed, little boy armor checked at the door because it would be far too exhausting to bring so much stubbornness and fight to bed after having lugged it around all day.

Although he can be a wildly difficult creature, I secretly love that he is such a little bull. I see something of myself in his fire and anger. Controlling it without crushing it will be tricky as he grows up. While the fire/anger gene it is not my most admirable or desirable component, it is a component with strength.

“Where are Mum-Mum’s cheeks?”

He reaches out with both hands, presses the flats of his palms against my cheeks, and gently squeezes. I look like a fish. He smiles again and his eyes tell me that he’s in on the game…that he knows that I know that he knows all of these answers. It’s a game we’ve played with him since before he could speak. It’s probably a bit indulgent to have continued on with it for this long, but it’s familiar to Liam and helps him power down for the night.

“Where are Mum-Mum’s eyes?”

His index finger lands on the thin, blue-from-lack-of-sleep skin beneath my eyes. He studies me and I decide to change the game slightly.

“Hey Bean…what color are Mum-Mum’s eyes?”

Liam leans in. He takes his time inspecting me and finally snuggles back into his pillows.

“Ummm… Mum-Mum’s eyes are blue. And, white.”

Indeed. A surprised laugh bubbles out of me. I laugh at how unexpected his answer is as well as how accurate it is. I kiss him. This is my favorite time of day with Liam.