Coffeehouse, I'm-supposed-to-be-grading thoughts

My husband is a warm hug. I left work early and met him at the local coffeehouse to grade. He's a dimpled smile. A back and foot massage. Kisses on the forehead and sweetness. Gentle. We nuzzle. Laugh. Intertwined fingers and nerd-talk.

My son is glasses obsessed. He just wants glasses. It's the first thing he asks for when he wakes up in the morning. A singing legless cuddly bear with a star belly that lights up is his "friend." He runs up to me, plants his face in my legs. I pick him up and before he buries his face in my neck he says, "I love you," with emphasis on the "love." I've never minded anyone's drool less than his.