Last night I went in to kiss Whit goodnight. He was sound asleep but rolled over when I kissed his cheek, half awake. He was, as usual, lying on top of his covers, clutching his monkey to his chest. He had that intoxicating child-asleep smell.
“I love you, Whitty,” I whispered.
“I love you,” he murmured back.
“How much?” (shameless)
“As much as the sky.”
Oh, my little man! Me too.
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