I was gone yesterday afternoon, and I think Boy Terror might have missed me. When I put him to bed, the love was almost too much to bear. He drank his bottle, and wiggled into my shoulder to snuggle while I rocked him. But there was no sleep on his mind. He kissed me. A lot. He pushed himself up on his arms to gaze at me in the dim light, and leaned in, going "mmmm", and gave me gobbery kisses all over my face. He licked my neck. He droooooooled on my chest. He squirmed and wiggled his whole little body, trying to get closer to my ribs. He patted my hair, pulled my ear. He said all his baby words for Mummy, over and over. Then, just when I thought he was done, he moved over to the other shoulder where it was dry, and started again. Kiss. Slobber. Lick. Droooool. By the time he was done loving me, and finally asleep, I was soaked. But you know what? It was fine. It was better than fine, it was great. My baby loves me, and it warms my heart even as it drenches my shirt.