I Could Just Eat You All Up

I recall hearing this expression when adoring ladies fawn over nubile babes, and frankly it has always disturbed me—since when is a cannibalistic preference a compliment?
That said: I want to eat my baby all up. He’s all warm and tiny and chubby and soft—oh so soft. Baxter even seems to enjoy a good noisy chomping, too. He’s giddy being gummed all over and invites more.

In a previous post, I espoused the virtues of cleaning Baxter in the shower and I still prefer not to sit in a warm pool of my own filth (let alone mine and his). But Baxter is getting heavy. Heavy, squirmy and unpredictable, so bath time it is! And this is the time I really ‘soak in’ his total nakedness. I know Halloween is coming up and I’m tempted to write some graphic description as to why actually eating Baxter would be less appetizing and more disturbing than any fawning ladies could ever imagine. “Think of who you’re talking to,” my father would always disapprovingly state after I initiated an inappropriate conversation. So I’ll keep it clean.

But now I know. I’m converted. And I feel all mommies agree. Babies are the tastiest treat anytime, anyplace—food for the soul.