Addiction

Do you remember how it was, after the first couple of times you played Tetris? It's the only thing you wanted to do, you had to start a new game immediately after losing, and you saw little falling blocks in your head before you fell asleep at night?

I've become addicted to the newborn. I can't get enough of his squishy old man face and the powdery smell of his head. If I haven't held him in awhile, I need to go pick him up to get my fix. He furrows his brow and twists his tiny mouth and smiles, showing off a dimple in each cheek.
I marvel at how small he is, at his miniature fingers. I am mindful that this is the last time I will have a four-day-old infant. A six-day-old. A one-week-old.

If Bump takes Lumpyhead and Lula out for a few hours in the morning, I nap with the little guy in our bed. But even when he's not beside me, it's his face I see before drifting off to sleep.