don't trust babies.

There you go, flashing your (silky/smooth/butterlicious/sweet-smelling/snuggly) skin. What has your mama raised you to be?


And didn't you learn at an earlier age that it's not polite to stare at people with your (heavenly/deep ocean blue/crystal clear/happy) eyes? It's like you want me to make you smile. It's like you think I am the coolest photographer on the block. It's like you need to tell me something with your low baby voice, and then proceed to smile your toothless grin.



Geesh.


I'm not having any of it.


Alright, alright, I'll give you back to your mama now.