Jack Attack!

   Being a graveyard shift worker for many years has come in handy since my son, Jack has come along. I arrive home each morning at 7:30am squinting from the suns rays stabbing into my corneas. Most times I forget my sunglasses so I cope.
  My wife, Stacey has already been up since 6 o'clock when Jack decides he's had enough sleep and cries to be released from his swaddle (the equivalent of a baby sized straight jacket). I begin my usual routine and toss my keys, phone, wallet, and watch into a basket in the living room hall. Then I strip off my uniform and hang it for maybe one more nights use at the job.
  I can hear Stacey talking to him in the nursery. He coos and laughs, his right arm, as always raised with hand balled into a fist. I call it his 'fight the power' pose. I walk in, the room smelling faintly of formula and give my wife a hug from behind as she finishes changing Jack's diaper.

  "He slept well last night. He only made a few sounds around three in the morning. Right Jack?"
  My son responds with gurgling smile and kicks his legs about.
  Jack was born on June 18th, 2010, the same day as Paul McCartney's birthday. My wife being an avid Beatles fan couldn't be happier. Now three months later and here was our little boy laying on the changing table as mommy put his froggy feety pajamas back on.
  It was mutually decided that he would named Jack Sawyer. My wife and I are both big readers. She's more mystery, and supernatural. I'm all over the place, most recently flipping through Bill Bryson paperbacks depicting his oversea travels.
  The one common genre we both love though is horror. Given that bit of information you should know where this is leading. The origin of his name is something we still start off telling the curious, "He was named after a Stephen King character, but he doesn't die."
  And so Jack Sawyer, a.k.a Jack Sawyer of 'The Talisman' is handed off to me as the wife gets ready for work. I carry him into the living room and sit him on my lap. It's now father/son time until mommy comes home. I turn on the television and switch the channel over to his morning favorite on Boomerang - The Wacky Races.
 As we watch the colorful characters dart across the screen I spin him around to face me. He takes a minute to focus on my face and then he lets out a laugh and smiles.
 "Daddy loves you", I say.
 He listens intently, focusing on the sound of my voice. "uvvvv, oooooo..."
 That's my boy, my boy named Jack.