The Deathstick

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The morning dew seems to stand as a quiet witness to a light that glows not only from the sun, but also from three little angels who begin their day with the sort of delightful chaos that can warm anyone’s heart. Emeric, with all his charming mischief, never fails to make his little sisters, Airy and Aily, laugh until their eyes glisten with happy tears, and moments like these often feel like something out of a fairytale—one we’re lucky enough to live in. Happy World Children’s Day, our sweetest little treasures! Thank you for choosing us and for filling Mommy and Dadda’s days with a light we never knew we needed. Even when we can’t always be together, the warmth you carry in your laughter and little hearts will forever keep our love wrapped snugly around you, like a hug that never lets go.

Late birthday repost! That pancake? Hands down the most delicious one I've ever had. Sweet, a little messy, but made with so much love. Just like us. Chaotic, goofy, full of laughter and spills, yet somehow always landing on the side of magic. This year, more than ever, I feel overwhelmed with gratitude. For the quiet mornings and wild evenings. For the silly fights that end in even sillier makeups. For Zefanya, the heart of our little universe. And for our kids, who remind me every day what it means to love without condition. Life isn’t perfect, but I wouldn’t trade this beautiful mess for anything.

ㅤㅤ The day moved slowly, gently. They played games, took a walk through the park, pushed the stroller down tree-lined paths while the older kids raced ahead. There were no elaborate plans, no big gestures—just the sweetness of time spent together. That night, after the cake and bedtime stories, Zefanya curled beside him on the couch. Aily was asleep on his chest, her tiny breath rising and falling in sync with his. Airy and Emeric had fallen asleep halfway through their movie, tangled in a blanket on the floor. She looked up at him, her hand resting over his heart. “We’re really lucky to have you,” she whispered. He looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered. “No,” he said quietly, “I’m the lucky one.” And with that, the house fell into a hush, soft and golden, full of the kind of love that didn’t need to be said to be felt. ㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤ The three of them huddled near the doorway when they heard the creak of the stairs. Zefanya hushed them with a finger to her lips. As the footsteps got closer, the kids tensed with excitement, barely holding back their giggles. The moment Loxias stepped into the kitchen, bleary-eyed and stretching, they burst out in a chorus. “Happy birthday, Dadda!” Emeric shouted, voice cracking with joy. Airy chimed in right after, holding up her drawing with both hands. Loxias blinked at them, stunned. Then a smile spread across his face—wide, warm, and a little crooked. “Well, this is the best wake-up I’ve ever had,” he said, stepping into their little circle. He scooped up Airy first, then knelt down for Emeric’s hug, and finally kissed the top of Aily’s fuzzy head as she flailed her arms toward him. Zefanya watched it all with her heart full. The laughter, the mess, the simple joy. She handed him a mug of coffee just the way he liked it, and he leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. “Happy birthday, love,” she murmured. “Thanks, baby,” he said, brushing a bit of flour off her nose. “This is perfect.” ㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤ Baby Aily was the last to join, gurgling happily in her high chair, waving a teething toy in the air like a victory flag. Zefanya placed a tiny pancake on her tray. She immediately smashed it with a squel of delight. The kitchen warmed with life. Emeric arranged sliced kiwis in the shape of a heart. Airy poured too much syrup on the tray and apologized with wide eyes. Zefanya didn’t mind. These were the little messes that made the morning even more beautiful. ㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤ Emeric’s face lit up. He tiptoed inside, already reaching for the bananas on the counter. “Go get Airy,” she said softly, “but no shouting. And check on Aily, too.” He nodded seriously, a little man on a mission. Soon, Airy appeared clutching a folded paper—her latest masterpiece, filled with crayon swirls and a big smiling version of her dad with a red cape and heart-shaped glasses. “Can we give this to Dadda now?” she asked, eyes hopeful. “After breakfast,” Zefanya said, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “Let’s make it special.” ㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤ In the kitchen, the house was still and cool. She tied her hair back and pulled out the mixing bowl. Pancakes first. Always pancakes. She started whisking the batter when she heard small footsteps padding down the hallway. Emeric stood in the doorway, his pajamas wrinkled, eyes half-closed. “Is it today?” he mumbled. Zefanya nodded, whispering, “Yes. Quiet, okay? Let’s surprise Dadda.” ㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤ “𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑴𝒐𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑾𝒆 𝑴𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝑶𝒖𝒓 𝑷𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝑫𝒂𝒅𝒅𝒂” The first light of morning filtered through the curtains, casting soft gold across the bedroom. Zefanya stirred before the alarm had a chance. It was instinct, maybe, or just the quiet excitement in her chest. Today was his birthday. She turned toward him. Loxias was still asleep, mouth slightly parted, the blanket tangled around one leg. She smiled, kissed his shoulder softly, and slipped out of bed. ㅤㅤ