What if I eat him?
No food with this post, but there is something even yummier – a Caramel Popcorn ripe to be eaten.
So maybe I am bias, that is quite probable. Cause I am. Maybe I am blinded by maternal hormones or some other pheromones that make sure I will care for him. Sure, that is a viable explanation. And if thats all there is than it doesnt matter to me, although you may find my ramblings on the issue a bit sickening. But this child, just like the other ones before him just bring up urges in me to engulf him. To make him part of me somehow and the best way I can think of is to eat him. Maybe I am simple that way too.
What can I do though?
I go out with him to shake and beat the rugs with the tennis racket. We have a good fun, then plop the rugs on the rails to just breathe for a bit and go inside.
A few minutes later I hear the fly door slam and I run though and walk out and what do I see?
I see a view that causes me to be hungry for Popcorn, thats what I see!
In all his smallness, lugging the racket and trying to beat the rug. Cute?!
Then he chases us with books. No, he doesnt throw them at us, he chases us to read them for him. There are books all over the house for easy access. There are two in the toilet at the moment, cause one is a sitting duck there and he has figured that out. There are a bunch in the living room. There are a few on the desk in the office – sitting ducks galore there.
He also uses big sister when she is watching something on the TV. She thinks she can just sit there and watch? No, no, no. Someone lugs a book and climbs on the sofa and makes himself comfortable in her warm lap.
Just about anything he does is cute and makes me smile.
Like the way he squats and his little toes curl up inside to hold his balance and his thighs all squish and become a huggable mass of soft stuff…
How he tries to join in on anything we do.
Here big sisters would direct him to go grab leaves for their yuck, gross, I will never touch it soup. He fulfilled his duties wonderfully and with gusto. He felt important.
I was gushing.
I cannot even begin to list all the things he does that make me want to eat him.
I can try, but I will fail.
His smell, his hair, his smile, his bouncy run, his hoarse sounding giggle, but in a cute way, his bum, his warm tummy, his open lip kisses… oh, its no use. See, failed.
People, just believe me when I tell you that we find him irresistibly cute
If its all in our heads, just bear with me.
And send me strength not to make him into Dodman Sushi – cause that is the best way to eat such a fine fresh specimen, we have agreed in the house.