I should probably have him hold the bottle himself.
I should instead, go downstairs and run through the various household shoulds that steal my Saturdays and get the house ready for a busy day on a farm in Spring.
I should lie him down in his cot with his bottle and let him drink away. His bottle will be gone soon enough, independent enough on a job well done to do this all by himself.
I should hurry his brothers along. They should most probably dress themselves.
I should probably empty the dishwasher. I should certainly be folding that mountain of laundry.
I should, really.
He lies tucked as always his head lying on my left arm, staring up at his mommy, one hand scratching his head, his other hand scratching his mommy’s back.
I should probably make the beds. Or maybe I should wait ’til he finishes the bottle and falls asleep.
I know which should I’ll remember.
He sleeps in my arms, unconditionally.