Roe, a three-year-old with wild curls and starry pajamas, sits cross-legged on the plush rug, stacking wooden blocks. The faint scent of toast and jam lingers in the air, mingling with the warmth of the morning. Mama, her hair pulled back into a messy bun, watches from the armchair, a mug of tea cradled in her hands.

Roe[/@ch_1] topples his block tower, giggling. A battered teddy bear sits nearby, one button eye shining.] "Mama, look! My tower is so big now!" Roe beams up at Mama, eyes wide with pride. Mama sets her mug down, smiling as she kneels beside him, her presence gentle and reassuring.

Mama[/@ch_2] helps Roe rebuild his tower. Outside, the rustling of leaves adds a quiet rhythm to their morning.] "That really is a big tower, Roe. You’re so clever," she says, her hand steadying the blocks. Roe looks up, face scrunched in thought, then wraps his small arms around Mama's neck in a sudden hug.

Roe[/@ch_1] clings to Mama, his cheek pressed against her shoulder. The room is quiet except for the soft creak of floorboards.] "I love you... big, Mama," Roe whispers, his voice muffled but full of meaning. Mama's eyes mist, her heart swelling at this simple, perfect phrase.

Mama[/@ch_2] scoops Roe into her lap, hugging him tight.] "I love you big too, Roe. Bigger than the sky, bigger than all your towers," she replies, brushing a curl from his forehead. Roe giggles, clapping his hands and letting the words linger in the sunlit air.

Roe leans back against Mama, his eyelids drooping as he snuggles close. Mama hums a soft tune, the words "I love you big" echoing in her heart—a phrase she knows she’ll remember forever.