In case you didn't already know, fat baby bodies are God's gift to the world.
And you thought it was George Clooney.
Well, he is delectable, but friends, have you kissed any baby fat lately?
Let me tell you what I have on my hands here.
When I go to get Frankie out of his crib in the morning he greets me with a huge body smile and shakes the bars of his crib like a little gorilla. His pajamas stretch tight across his belly. And when I pick him up, he kicks his legs like mad and then clamps onto me and buries his chubby face into my neck.
I don't mind the slobber. It's Frankie's way of claiming me as his own.
Next it's down the hall to retrieve the Bird. She pops up when the door opens and instantly starts an indiscernible dialogue about who knows what. Usually something about books and babies and jammies. I lift her up and stand for just one moment alone with her in the sunlight that streams in through her windows. She allows me to stroke her hair as long as she is sure that I'm paying complete attention to what she is saying.
I love to tickle her cheek along her jawline. It's just a circle the disappears into her neck. Particularly kissable.
The Boy hasn't an ounce of fat on his entire body. It's sad. He's all elbows and scabby knees. When I try to hold him in my lap his bum bones dig into my leg. He feels like a robotic octopus.
I reminds me that the fat is fleeting and I better get my fill.
Wish my own fat was fleeting.
Thanks to everyone for your kind comments over the past few days. I read them all. More than once. And I carry them around in my head during the day. They make laundry bearable.