obsessed . . .

I am full on obsessed.

I absolutely cannot get enough of this baby. I want to kiss him all over, slather him with butter, and then bite his cheeks off. I don't ever want to put him down, and I'm continually trying to breathe in all of his sweet baby goodness. Maybe it's the abundance of chubby rolls, maybe it's his easygoing nature, maybe it's the smiling and cooing, or maybe it's just because having done this once before, I am more relaxed than ever this time around. Whatever it is, I am enjoying this baby so ridiculously much.

Honestly, I would love to have a thousand babies. If only they didn't grow up, refuse to eat a decent lunch, and then demand that I fetch them snacks every 20 seconds. When Vince was just a few weeks old I was pushing him in the stroller and a sweet older lady stopped to admire him and wistfully sighed, "I want one." I swear, that moment was like looking into a mirror reflecting my future right back at me.

Future mothers of the world, if you see me walking down the street in 40 years, you better hide your babies.