Dear Maggie,You make me feel like I do when I see a very moist plate of brownies. Overeat. I want to overeat you. I want to snuggle you to death, kiss your cheeks off, and blow directly on your neck making a funny noise. I want to record that little noise you make when you strain your soft scream (the talking one, not the crying one) with your squeal and put the speaker right next to my ear forever. And finally, as does everyone who's seen your thighs, I want to softly pinch the three rolls climbing your leg over, and over, and over, and over again.
Sincerely,
Your Mother
P.S. That breathing you do which you seem to think is talking actually frightens me and your father. You sound much like Darth Vador, "I AM your daughter. Haaaaaaa." Please stop.
