Faces

This face, at bedtime, squashed in a face sandwich by the nursery window, as we say goodnight to the bun-bun, and to the squirrel, "Who went (insert the noise a squirrel would make if it scurried over your fence but paused long enough to eat a nut)," and to the stars in the sky, the apples in the tree, the neighbours doing their washing up, &ct. We do this routine at the window every single night, but tonight he squashed our faces together for quite a few long moments, and grinned, and laughed through his nose.