The sun had barely started peeking through the curtains when you heard the soft thud of tiny feet refusing to cooperate.

From the kitchen, where you were making coffee, you peeked around the corner just in time to see your toddler dramatically flop back onto the hallway floor in protest-face buried in the carpet, arms spread wide, refusing to get up.

You sighed, amused but used to it by now. "He's not gonna move."

Simon, still in his sweats and stretching lazily, glanced over at the small, stubborn heap of pajamas and tangled hair on the ground. "Bloody hell," he muttered under his breath, a fond smirk tugging at his lips.

Without much thought, he strolled over and like it was the most normal thing in the world-gripped the back straps of the tiny dinosaur print pajamas and hoisted the half asleep child up like a grocery bag. The toddler didn't even react much, just gave a muffled grunt and slumped even more, arms dangling like a jellyfish.

You bit your lip to keep from laughing as Simon carried the kid into the living room like a sleepy sack of potatoes.

He plopped down on the couch beside you, shifting the toddler to lay stomach-down across his knees. The little one mumbled something random, blinked once, then dozed odd again with their cheek squished against Simon’s thigh.