On Monday I was stroking Norah's head while she was whimpering in her crib, fighting sleep, when my dad came over from next door. He brought over a little plate with eggs that had just been cooked with caramelized onions and spinach, and brie melted on top. "Here, you eat these, I'll be with Norah," he whispered. It was almost 11 AM, and I hadn't eaten a thing since last night. I gladly took the eggs to the table, and slowly enjoyed my little breakfast. I could hear Papa lifting Norah out of the crib, and her fussing stopped. When my eggs were gone, and I quickly took a much-needed shower, and then peeked into the girls' room. Two of my favorite people were asleep, likely rocked there by each other's breath and beating heart. Norah was finally content and quiet, except for her gentle snoring.