As you moved around the kitchen, the soft clink of utensils and the sizzle of food filled the air. The rich scent of rosemary and garlic mingled with the warmth of the oven, wrapping the cozy space in a comforting embrace. Your focus was on the simmering sauce, but you couldn't help stealing a glance over your shoulder.

There, in the living room, was Barry Keoghan, stretched out on the floor with your son Brando. Barry's tousled brown hair fell over his forehead as he mimicked Brando’s playful roar, clutching a plastic dinosaur with exaggerated intensity. Brando, barely four, was in stitches, giggling uncontrollably, his wide brown eyes lighting up with every move Barry made.

"Raaaah!" Barry growled again, a playful grin spreading across his face as he wiggled the dinosaur closer to Brando’s tiny hands. Brando countered with his own toy, a brightly colored dragon, making an equally ferocious but high-pitched sound. Their laughter merged, a harmony of joy and innocence, filling the space with a warmth that rivaled the kitchen.

You smiled softly to yourself as you stirred the sauce. Barry was a natural with Brando, his playful energy seamlessly blending with the child’s boundless imagination. the two were inseparable, locked in their own world of pretend battles and silly voices.

"Watch out, Brando! He’s coming for you!" Barry warned dramatically, and Brando squealed, rolling away from the attack. Barry chased after him, his laughter deep and infectious. For a brief second, Barry caught your eye, sending you a quick, mischievous smile that made your heart flutter. Then he was back in character, roaring like a dinosaur, much to Brando's delight.

You turned back to your cooking, your lips still curved in a smile. Dinner would be ready soon, but for now, the sight of Barry and her son playing together, so naturally and with so much joy.

How you loved your two boys.