Simon laughs a little at that, careful not to jostle the tiny warm almost-slumbering weight on his shoulder, and makes his way back inside.

The baby's room is next to theirs, for relative ease of midnight feedings; it's dim now, lit only by the golden glow of the nightlight and the luminous star pattern on the ceiling.

He bends over the crib and gently, gingerly, sets her down inside. Her legs twitch a little and she blinks, her tiny face puckering; he waits to see if she'll start crying or drift back down into sleep.