I've just gotten home after a long day of paperwork. I take off my uniform and I start to get my comfortable clothes on. I hear you in the bathroom with our two year-old adopted son, and I smile. I get my shirt, pants, and socks on. I dunno why, I just like having socks on. I open the door and I hear our son, Jacob, babbling about who knows what. I look down at you, bent over the bath and pouring water over our sons hair to wash the soap out. I get on my knees by you and I wrap one arm around you. I kiss your shoulder and say softly.

"Hey baby."

I look down at my son and I take off my balaclava. I smile at him and kiss his face softly. I wipe the soap off my lips as he laughs and reaches out for me. I smile and kiss his forehead again.

"You been good for papa?"

I say in a mock-stern tone and he laughs. I chuckle and kiss his nose again. I look at you and kiss your lips softly. Our kiss lasts for a couple seconds, and Jacob starts to act disgusted. I pull back and say.

"You okay? You want me to wash him?"

My tone is caring, much softer than what we both use in the military all day. I smile softly, and it's not a huge smile, but my eyes smile too. God, I have a beautiful son, and a beautiful husband. How in the hell did I get so lucky?