babies my anti-drug

This baby thing, man. Can’t get me enough.What is it about the everywhichway hair that is maybe sort of balding along the back that gets me? Why does it make me giggle and feel all bubbly inside?And his daddy’s eyes. How on earth is it possible to have exact replicas – but miniature – of his daddy’s eyes? Sometimes he looks right at me (the baby) and I tell him that he can have anything he wants. (It’s true. He pretty much can.)The eyebrows that convey expressions far beyond his level of understanding. The cheeks that squish-squoosh against mine when I lean in for a kiss or a zerber. The lips and chin that are too heavy to hold up so whenever he’s vertical his mouth is permanently open.I can’t get enough of them. I’m an addict, I tell you.Speaking of his mouth being open – the drool. That constant silver string hanging from his lips. Or sometimes it’s hapless bubbles he’s blowing. Both are equally adorable.Man. This is bad. How and when did it come to pass that slobber makes me swoon?I don’t know how it got to this point, but I don’t want to quit.