He crawls into the nook between the sturdy shoulder and the broad chest belonging to his daddy. Who, to the small boy, was relied to be both taller and stronger than any Superhero.
When his snuggle reached that part where he knew he could relax, right into that nook and right before the corner of the worn and comfy powder blue dress shirt, his own Superman commonly wore, the boy's breathing tempered and his anxiety waned.
He was now home.
And no more rituals, or lessons to try so hard to learn or understand, no more sections of time designated to play with others his same age, but not his own.
His tiny world's big conclusion of the day was this; daddy was home and he at home within his daddy's embrace.