Yesterday was a banner day for Fiona and me. For the most part, it was a normal Sunday. She and I went out and about to run errands (i.e., I dragged her through a couple of stores in her stroller while she came patiently along for the ride). By the time we got home in the late afternoon, she was good and mellow after being exposed to so much rampant consumerism. I understand this feeling, it has the same effect on me.
To make what would usually be a very long story with lots of background short, I'll get right to the point. I got my first baby kiss from Fiona yesterday. An honest-to-goodness kiss. I had to ask, plead, beg, and otherwise cajole it out of her. But suddenly she gave in (after approximately 8 months of me trying to convince her that it would be fun to give Mommy a smooch).
I've since learned from others that babies don't do much in the way of puckering. It's all mouth. This would explain why what I really got was less kiss and more slobber. But it was terribly, terribly sweet. When she planted her drooly little 'O' mouth on mine, my heart just melted. This is what makes the (admittedly rare) late night or midnight waking worth it (not to mention a million other things).
So far there's been no repeat smooch, but this wasn't her first (kiss #1 went to Grampa, M's dad, a few weeks ago - and while it wasn't to me, I didn't feel too badly about it because at least I got to see it), so it certainly won't be her last. Tomorrow, we fly out to Arizona to visit NaeNae (my mother). Perhaps we can convince her to shell out a few more smooches.
