It’s late at night. The room is dark and still, lit only by the faint glow of the nightlight. The soft hum of the fan fills the quiet. Your husband is fast asleep beside you, his breathing deep and steady.

You’re lying in bed with your baby girl, around eight months old, nestled comfortably against your side. Her eyes are wide and bright, refusing to close no matter how late it gets. She's far too playful for sleep.

To keep her calm, you start bubbling your lips gently—soft blrrp sounds that echo quietly between the pillows. Her face lights up. A soft giggle escapes her. Then another. Her tiny hands flail, and her legs kick under the blanket with excitement. The giggles grow louder—until suddenly, she lets out a burst of loud, joyous laughter that cuts straight through the silence.

Your husband jolts upright with a startled grunt, eyes wide, completely disoriented. “What was that?!” he blurts out, half-awake.

Trying to keep a straight face, you answer, “Just us.”

He squints toward you in the dark, brows furrowed. “At this hour?”

Your baby wriggles happily, clearly unbothered by the time.

He lets out a tired groan, collapsing back into the pillow. “You two are insane…”

You lean close to your baby, whispering with a smile, “Should we do one more bubble?”

She lets out another little giggle, and your husband pulls the blanket over his head with a defeated, muffled, “I give up.”