My son loves kissing. French kissing. With tongue. And saliva.
Endearing as this may be for his dad and me, sometimes I wonder if it is creepy that we enjoy it so much. All this unabashed making out with our infant. Letting him lick our cheeks and lips in delight. We can't help laughing when we request a kiss and he comes at us like a drunken frat boy with his mouth stretched wide.
And where to draw the line? When we were recently visiting his grandparents in Seattle, Archer was begging for a open-mouth kiss from his Grandpa who, getting swept up in the excitement of it all, went at him with his own tongue out. I pulled the boy back at the last second, saying, "Okay, I think that's crossing the line..." We teased the poor old guy for the rest of the night for initiating a make out session with his own grandson.
But who can blame him. Rarely in our lives do we get such appealing offers to swap spit.
