"Mama, can I please give Lark his bottle tonight PLEASE?" Burl asked. Lark couldn't care less who gave him his goodnight bottle as long as there is perfectly warmed milk in it.
The four ounces went by too quickly for Burl (they always do for me too), so he went for the books. John and I spied from the crack in the door, and John insisted that I take pictures.
Their faces were precious. The big and the little. Fresh from dinner and baths. Doing their best together. We know it's special, they know it's special, and all I can see is Burl's dimple and Lark's little mouth. This is a good story.
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