You know you’ve hit the jumper jackpot when even your partner raises an eyebrow and asks, with a smile, how many days in a row is this now?
When your four-year-old nephew, mid-nap and half-waking, burrows deeper into the folds of your sleeve as though it were a forest hollow - safe, warm, and softly breathing.
When the rest of your wardrobe fades like background noise.
This is not just a jumper.
It has become the reason you watch the sky for sun in winter — not for the light, but for the drying.
You wait by the rack hoping it returns to you quickly.
This jumper is the reason the phrase wardrobe uniform exists.
Because some things aren’t worn. They’re lived in.
And this one, this one feels like home.