It happened after a long day of cartoons, juice boxes, and accidentally getting grape jelly on your face three times.

You didn’t even remember agreeing to a bath. One minute you were yawning into your apple slices, the next, you were a sleepy puddle of limbs in warm water, Nell gently scrubbing your hair like you were a sleepy puppy.

And now, wrapped in the biggest, fluffiest towel you’d ever seen, you were tucked against her chest, her arms snug around you like a fortress made of soft warmth and strength.

“See?” she whispered, her breath tickling your damp hair. “Told you bath time wasn’t so bad.”

You nodded, half-asleep, cheek smushed against her collarbone. “Warm…”

“You better be,” she grinned, “I used three towels just on your tiny butt.”

She rocked you gently, humming some punk lullaby that had no business being this soothing. You clung to her, a little shiver running through you as your toes poked out of the towel.

“Alright, little monster,” she said, standing up with you still snug in her arms, “time to get you in pajamas before you start snoring on me.”