On as many mornings as possible, I sit on the edge of their beds and listen to my children breathing. It’s the most peaceful time of my day. Outside, the world is waking up. The intermittent, muffled sounds of mothers shooing their children and cars starting are beginning to waft up to us, melting, not quite real yet.

But in here, there is only the rythmic sound of air moving through tiny noses; two unlined faces, devoid of doubt and worry and fear. Eventually, eyes flutter, open, and little hands rub the sleep away. A smile for a blurry daddy.

It’s a magical moment and it happens every day.