|MY BABY, SNOOZING IN THE BASKET that I will use to smuggle her out of the house later tonight. "Just nipping out to do some laundry!" I'll sing breezily. "Back soon!" |
Vivien Yen Photography
My daughter needs some help with Piggly Wiggly this weekend and of course I put up my hand to volunteer even before she'd finished asking the question because holy crap, I don't know what they're putting in babies these days but this one is more addictive than crack. I can already predict that I won't put my baby down down for more than four minutes, max, the entire time I'm there. (Unless it's to take a picture of something I've put on her head.)
And yes, I said "my baby." Is it weird that I pretend she's my baby? Because when I hold her and cuddle her and get up with her in the middle of the night during those precious visits, it feels like she's my baby. In fact I may even have tried to suckle her once. But if you tell her mother I'll deny it. And then I'll ruin your life in exactly the same way I ruined the lives of every man who ever tried to cross me. (Don't bother asking them. They didn't live to tell of it.)
EDITOR'S NOTE: Did you really try to ...
MY NOTE: Stop it with your disgusting fantasies, editor. I still haven't got over the time I caught you ogling those photos from my secret Caribana files.