Then his face broke into that radiant...smile, as if we'd been in ecstatic cahoots... the whole time.

When Matty smiles, it's pure Jay Gatsby.

It was one of those rare smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance in it, that you may come across four or five times in life. It faced--or seemed to face--the whole external world for an instant, and then concentrated on you with an irresistible prejudice in your favor. It understood you just as far as you wanted to be understood, believed in you as you would like to believe in yourself, and assured you that it had precisely the impression of you that, at your best, you hoped to convey.

He's two months old. He's the love of my life.

He lays there nursing, draped across my lap, with one arm hugging around my waist and the other hand resting on my chest, and he looks up at me and all of the sudden his face just breaks into the most glorious, delirious grin. Milk spills out of his mouth and runs down his chin. And we are there in that moment together, in ecstatic cahoots.