"Mama, ni' night." Buttercup is sniffly, feverish. She wants her Mama.
Mama had planned on putting Buttercup to bed and sneaking out once the coast was clear, but plans are meant to be broken.
Forget Mama's muse. Creative outlets can wait for another night.
"Thank you, Mama."
So congested. She needs me.
"I love you, M'ija."
Pet names and a tangle of comforters; kisses and elbows as she gets comfortable; contented sighs as we drift into each other and our dreams.