A face made for kissing  I just wanted to take a moment to
wallow in the unique feeling of Mother Love.  You know that
moment when a face is presented to you, full of concentration
and babbling intensity, but you simply aren’t listening because
you are overwhelmed with the pangs of love?  That irresistible,
stronger-than-heroin need to take the small, soft cheeks in your
hand and kiss them. Over and over. To inhale their scent and
drink in their unblemished perfection.  The times when that
small face, so totally unaware of its beauty and impact,
tauntingly close to your own, just simply HAS to be touched. Why
is it that the softness of those cheeks and the enormity of
those eyes have the combined power to destroy a mother’s reason?
It is the warm nuzzle into that neckline and those tiny arms
entangling you which brings you metaphorically and literally to
your knees.  What I wouldn’t do for my Faces Made For Kissing.
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