"We should go on a picnic," Finn decides. I glance out the window. It's getting dark out.

I shrug. Who am I to say no?

"M'kay. Annabelle!"

"Yeah?"

"Get dressed, I know you're in your pajamas." All I get is a whine in response. It's better than a no.

She trudges out a couple minutes later, pulling a hoodie on over her sweatshirt.

"Baby, it's not that cold out," I say amusedly. She pouts at me, hair still in the bun she wears it in to sleep, not a trace of makeup on her. I peck her on the cheek.

"You're beautiful."

"Meh," she mumbles, pulling my shirt so her nose is buried in my neck.

"We're going on a picnic."

"Cool. Have fun."

"Nope. You're coming with us," I say firmly, grabbing her glasses off the counter and shoving them into the pocket of her hoodie.

"Finn, tell your mom she should let me sleep," Annabelle says into my shoulder.

"But I wanna go on a picnic."

"I wanna sleep."

"Sleep later, Momma," he says, and he's smiling so widely, I can feel Annabelle's resolve crumbling.

"Ugh, fine. Y'all are gonna be the death of me someday," she says, and she's just tired enough that she's getting a twang to her words. I ruffle her hair, then kiss the top of her head.

"Finn, d'you wanna drive?"

He nods, so I toss him the keys. On the way out, I grab a box of strawberries and the blondies I made last night. Makeshift picnic? Why not.