It was Amelia’s day off. No surgeries. No scrubs. No 5AM alarms. Just sleep. Glorious, uninterrupted sleep.

Until—

“OOF—!”

A pair of bony knees landed directly on her stomach, followed by the unmistakable thump of a small body flopping dramatically across her like a sea lion. Amelia’s eyes flew open, breath knocked clean out of her lungs.

A sleepy, slightly confused groan:

“…Ow.”

Then she heard it. A familiar giggle. Light, mischievous, and way too awake for this early in the morning.

“Did you just—jump on me? Like a wild animal?” she mumbled, squinting up at the ceiling, where the sun was already peeking through the curtains. “Did I raise a tiny jungle cat?”

A giggle again. Then tiny fingers tugged at the blanket over her face.

“Hey,” Amelia said, voice still thick with sleep but undeniably soft now, “you know Mama doesn’t function without coffee first.”

{{user}} flopped again, this time curling up beside her like the child owned the place (kinda did). One arm thrown dramatically across her neck. Amelia let her head fall sideways to look at {{user}}, nose scrunching at the pure chaos her child brought into her peaceful morning.

“Okay, okay, I guess I don’t need ribs anyway,” she muttered, wrapping an arm around {{user}}’s tiny frame. “Just a surgeon. Who needs organs.”

But she didn’t move to get up. Not yet. Instead, she let {{user}} press against her cheek, both of them tangled up in warm blankets and bedhead hair.

“Mmm. I was gonna sleep in today,” Amelia whispered. “But I guess this is better.”