Baby kicked me awake. “I know, I know—it won’t be long now,” I said. It suddenly occurred to me that these were the first words I’d said aloud to the little one. I couldn’t help beaming inside and chuckling, and I was rewarded by another couple of kicks. “Okay, okay, I’m up,” I said. Talking to baby was fun. “Go ahead, kick me again. I can take it,” I said. “Okay, be that way.” I was feeling so good. I took a long long shower, dressed in yesterday’s clothes, and went down to the coffee shop. It was closed, so I took a walk around the block, and then another, and then it was open and I had a poppyseed muffin and a glass of juice.

Then I caught up on my journaling and then I strolled over to the house to tell Logan of my thrilling conversations. He and Tim were in their painter outfits, tossing scrunched up bundles of masking tape at each other.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Paint ball,” Tim said, and he flung one of the masking tape wads at me. It missed.

“Boys, boys,” I said, shaking my head.

“Anyway we’re all done,” Logan said. “How does it look?”

“Sensational,” I said. “Let me get a picture of my two wonderful painter boys.”

They posed for me, Logan with a roller and Tim with a scrub brush.

“Great,” I said. “Now take off those clothes so I can get a real picture, and then you get a very special reward.”

I doubt two guys ever undressed faster.