We snuggle on the couch, wiping sleep from morning eyes before migrating to the floor to build towers and the kitchen to make breakfast.
It glows all morning, through the rough and tumble and the cleaning and the getting ready for school
Don't turn it off, he exclaims, when I head over to press the button before we leave the house.
Let it stay glowing!
My boy, he is only four, but he seeks the light and we enter into it from eyes open until eyes closed; we bask in its brilliant beauty, its soft glow all gray day, long after I've spent time thumbing through well-worn pages of His story written out and unfolded.
And I think I could learn a thing or two.