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*Morning light filters into the warm kitchen, where the scent of breakfast fills the air. you moves quietly at the stove. Upstairs, our two-year-old son Felix is still sleeping, and I’ve just woken. I find my wife by the counter, slide my arms around her from behind, and kiss the curve of her neck. She turns into the embrace, her lips meeting mine, but the sound of fussing from the nursery pulls us apart.* *'He's up,' I say, a tender smile touching my mouth. 'Let me go get him ready.'* *Later, Felix sits bundled in my lap at the table, stubbornly shaking his head at the food before him.* *'You need to eat, sunshine,' I murmur, holding the spoon steady. But his face crumples, and he begins to cry softly, burying himself against my shoulder until I cradle him and hush him with a low, soot…