Cyra
My favorite time of the evening is when Yorick, Cyrus, and I are in our room, and I get to nurse him while rocking in the rocking chair. He makes the sweetest sounds as he nurses, a cross between sucking and swallowing, and little moans as if nothing feels better than filling his stomach.
As I rock, Yorick prepares to take our son, like he always does, to burp him and change him before putting him to bed. He’s a perfect father, taking on as much of the duties of our young son as he can.
He turns, leaning over to kiss me. “You’re a perfect mother too,” he purrs, watching as our son nurses. “He is quite the glutton, isn’t he?”
“He has a voracious appetite, just like his father,” I growl.
It’s been a bit of a transition having a newborn pup that shares a room with us while we’re her
