I am thankful for drooly babies.
I soaked up two of the cutest babies on the planet this weekend. And if there was a way that I could actually bottle them up and eat them, I would.
Is that weird?
And don't even get me started on juicy thighs. I literally cannot handle the invisible knee caps, the disappearing ankle bones and the nooks and crannies that are so chunky and fantastic that it is hard to look away. It is the only time in life that cellulite should be praised, adored and photographed.
THE. ONLY. TIME.
I am convinced that I have a baby quota that must be met regularly. And if it isn't met, than I am liable to suck the cheeks right off of the next one I see.