lyatt's child
Bright giggles, kicking feet on mummy’s lap at the kitchen table. Cheerios scattered across the table and floor, a sippy cup within reach. Cozy knitted sweaters, now stained with spilled juice, messy stitching but made with love by the bunker mom. A matching scarf is stashed elsewhere, ready for cooler days. Chubby fists squeezing tight around mummy’s fingers as daddy makes lunch, making faces from his place at the stove. Curious, sore gums gnaw on knuckles, bright blue eyes fixed on the sparkly diamond adorning mummy’s ring finger. Soft kisses on even softer dark hair, more giggles as mummy sings old songs. Sunday lunch for the little family in the bunker.













