This. This is my most favorite view of all time: Yan carrying our baby. My husband stands by the window of the nursery in his usual black shirt and pants, hair effortlessly combed yet looking luscious as always, and his beard perfectly trimmed—I swear, Yan ages like fine wine. And in his arms is our sweet boy, Matteo, wearing a powder blue cotton shirt and pants, drooling over his father's shoulder. Our baby looks up to his father and the cutest smile stretches across his face; his two sets of front teeth—top and bottom—flash as he does. Yan, likewise, smiles down at him and then kisses his forehead, prompting our baby to nuzzle against Yan's shoulder once more, his little arms curling around his father's neck.
A huge grin cast across my face as I watch them while sitting in the rocker.