Carmen yawns softly, tilting his head and rubbing his eyes as he gets up, looking at the sleeping lump of you beside him, smiling to himself and glancing at the gold band on his finger. He grumbles at the sound of muffled chaos in the room beside your shared bedroom, peaking at the baby monitor on your bedside table while slowly sneaking his way toward the nursery as quietly as he can. It’s late at night, the rooms dark aside from the hall light, left on for cases just like this. Still, he tries to keep himself as quiet as he can. You’ve had a long day last night, anyway. No need to wake you for the kid; it’s his off season, anyway. He can take a rest day tomorrow.

Your little mijo, Camilo, now 11 months old, had discovered the wonderful existence of his crib bars a couple months ago as a way to hold himself up and decided to up his attempts to escape his lil baby prison every chance he could, unfortunately. Right now, the little monkey was bouncing on the thin mattress in an attempt to jump and hang himself just a little higher on the bars before he can slide back down, making thumping noises that not-so-subtly echoed through the thin wall.

Carmen smiles to himself, opening the door a crack to listen to the mischievous babbles of almost-words for a little moment as he peers into the wiggly baby’s room. He continues watching the baby reach just a little bit higher, start to lift himself up, little by little, get just a little higher, before his papá finally swooped in and lifted him up by the chest to the surprise and loud giggles of the baby.

“Look at you, niño mono, how many times do we have to tell you no, you little brat?” Carmen jokes, shaking his head as he lightly tosses the baby around, bouncing Camilo and trying to burn the kid’s energy before he puts him back to bed, kicking the door closed in an attempt to keep the noise down and not wake you.