He'll be eight in 8 days.

For the better part of the last 3 plus years, I've been taking him to bed.
We've got a routine.
Turning a small lamp on.
Him climbing up in the top bunk.
Me pulling his sheets back and re-spreading them over him.
Him sticking his hand up for a high five.
Me giving one back.
Him leaning forward.
Me kissing his forehead.
Me laying in the lower bunk.
A quick chat about this or that.
'Good night bub'
'Good night'
'Love you'
'Love you too'
Then off to dreamland.
Snores to follow -- often some of my own.
Then me, eventually, sneaking off to bed myself.

As the youngest of our three, I wonder when these days will come to an end.
For now, I'm here for as long as he'll have me.
Not digging too deep.
Not turning things over to look for an expiration date.
Milking them...for all they've got.