Why, oh why, is my baby trying to tackle me? Post bath little baby Catie was feeling awfully randy, and while I sat on the floor attempting to reconstruct a freshly laundered (previously potty-ed) car seat she decided that Mommy...must...die. She started from a seated position, diving face first toward my shoulder with her teeth gnashed and uttering a non-specific "AAAHHHHH!" I narrowly escaped and retaliated by laughing and blowing raspberries on her neck. She was momentarily defeated. Her next move was to amble behind me and throw her arms around my neck while hoisting herself into a kneeling position half-way up my spine. Ha! But I was too quick for her, I whipped her around and smooched her all over and she was once again defeated. She rolled out of my lap onto the floor but immediately gathered her senses and came at me in a full-frontal assault, throwing her standing body onto me and opening her mouth wide to "kiss" me on the lips. I rolled backwards from the sheer force of 20 pounds of lethal baby fat slamming into my unprotected torso. I tried to block, but I just wasn't fast enough! She KISSED ME! And then... she called for back-up. Big sister Maggie "The Menace" came to help finish me off. While Catie "The Kisser" crawled back and forth over my chest, The Menace alternated between sitting on my pelvis, jumping up and down, and pushing her stinky fingers in my face. Clearly I was destined to lose this fight. I admitted defeat... and enjoyed it all.
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