Through the monitor

Through the monitor each night I hear a squeaky, rhythmic thumb-sucking.

And an occasional growl to scare away any scary monsters.

Sometimes the silence is broken with indignant whining over stolen blankets or snuggle-toys.

But usually I awake to the sound of mischievous laughter from two partners in crime.

I giggle along. Then I think to myself that I can't wait until morning so I can join their grand adventures.

I lay in my bed listening, and I wish that their father could be at my side, laughing and scheming along with me.

He comes home, for keeps, on Sunday, after 15 long weeks. I feel like a giddy teenager at the prospect of a first kiss.

Who could ask for anything more?