I struggle with becoming a creature of habit. Routines aren't all that exciting on paper. Spontaneity is what makes the heart jump.
Yet, our bedtime reading in the rocking chair is so much more fulfilling than just about anything I can think of. It's the calm of the day when you are a lump of weight on my chest and we flip through the same silly little books. You anticipate the stories now and make faces and sounds on queue as the pages turn.
The only other thing that gave me a thrill this past month was an epic powder day and seeing ultrasounds of your little brother with Mom. She is doing such a great job taking care of all of us.
I'm writing this on the plane coming back from a series of work trips. I don't mind the travel, but I mind missing the moments. Your mom does a great job sending me photos and videos so I don't feel too left out. It also makes me want to do nothing more than just be home after a trip. Whereas I was previously tempted to convince your Mom to take an outdoor adventure with me, inspired by travels, I'd rather venture home.
I've seen sunsets from the top of mountains, but the dimming day from your room window is honestly just as lovely because you're there with me. I'm looking forward to opening up our next book.