Kisses are strange. I don’t mean the open-mouth eat-you-up heart-pounding type. No, that’s normal for a human animal going about its reproduction, but all the others, the mwa mwa cat’s arse puckered lip variety that are weird. I didn’t kiss my brand-new babies, I nuzzled and sniffed them, filling my soul with the smell and taste of them. Fusing with them again. You can’t do that with a chilly kiss. The first time someone kissed the baby, with love, on his forehead, I shrank inside as I saw my cub start to take his place in the learned world of manners and other people.
