Sloppy, wet, noisy, open-mouthed kisses happen all over our house, from 6:00 in the morning to 8:00 at night. Sometimes there is tongue involved, and it is always Jett's. He kisses everything.
Today he kissed the dishwasher, the trashcan (I moved him away from that one right away though because the trash can is clearly too old for him), the back of our couch, every page in his These are My Hands book and oddly enough, only one particular baby in the Peekaboo Baby book he borrowed from Ellie. He kissed Charlie between the eyes and on the cheek, he kissed me on the lips and the neck and the shoulder and the back, he kissed Ellie's jean-covered bum, Aunt Jennie, his teddy bear, and the edge of the bathtub.
If I ask him for a kiss he will look at me like he doesn't know what I'm talking about. "Me? Kiss? What? Is that even a word?" And then out of nowhere he'll wrap his little arms around my neck and blow a raspberry into my shoulder. Yum.
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