He was a little shrimp of a baby. Danielle's books and notes she'd taken from the pediatric healers described the size and shape of her tiny one in more professional of ways but when it came down to it he looked like a shrimp, and was even smaller than one. It pleased her to have something more personal to relate the baby to other than just his measurements, even though in the rest of her life she often liked to have things spelled out to her in spells, digits, and facts.
Though, as her eyes fluttered closed at the touch of Donovan's lips on her shoulders, Danielle fondly recalled that her husband was one of the very few things she appreciated being surprised by, to have absolutely no way to truly describe how he made her feel. Her hands moved to cover his and she leaned back into him.
"I wouldn't say exhausted," she let out in a low hum, tilting her head to not-so-subtly expose her neck, a smile coming to play on her lips. She was certainly tired, but there was always energy inside of her for the time she spent with Donovan. He'd always known how to distract her in the most pleasant of ways, and she had adapted to it quickly.
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