We were half-awake, lying on the bed and listening to Shef go in and out of our closet this morning.

“Open close,” he’d say, and then he’d giggle. I’d peek at him every once in awhile, and he’d wrinkle up his nose and coo. It was very cute, but it was also 6 a.m, which wouldn’t have seemed too terribly early if he hadn’t required five overnight visits, all of which were made by me.

Dan and I were playing that weekly spousal game of chicken, each hoping the other would be compelled to get out of bed and take care of the kid. I was mumbling about the fucking heat, Dan was ignoring me, and then Shef deviated from his “open close” pattern.

“Penis,” he said, laughing on the other side of the closet door. “Penis. Hahaha.”

And that was that.