I suppose these expressions on my face (see above) encapsulate what most women feel like when they hold a baby--a human one, that is. Me, I'm missing the mom-gene. Never longed for children, never imagined myself pregnant, never stuffed a pillow under my blouse and pretended I was carrying precious cargo.
Oh, I like kids. Other peoples' kids.
But show me a puppy or kitten or calf or doe or any other baby animal and my heart absolutely positively explodes with a ferocity of seismic proportions. Like this baby pygmy goat I'm holding in the first photo: three-month old Queenie. She was a part of the petting zoo that came to visit our preschool last week. As I held her, she nuzzled her little head under my neck and I could feel the two rough spots where her horns would one day grow. I inhaled her delicious scent of milk and hay and found myself contemplating, "She's not that big, she could play with Olivia and fit through the doggie door, plus I have nice patio garden...."
Seriously, folks. What would I do with a goat? Holding Queenie made me lose all perspective.
As with Bella, the puppy Mt. Bernese in the second picture; she was doing her best to teeth on my necklace and I was so enamoured with her sweet puppy breath and velvety fur, she could have been trying to devour diamonds around my neck and I wouldn't have noticed. I didn't care that Bella would eventually weigh 150 pounds and have the potential to take up roughly one third of my living room. All I could think was, "I SO want this dog."
On second thought, maybe I do have the mom-gene. Just for the four-legged variety.