It must really suck, being a baby.
You know what you want, sort of,
but you can’t talk yet and none
of the Big People seem capable
of figuring it out. And now you’re
cutting teeth, so you just want to
chew on everything. Your little
hand pulls my finger into your
mouth, and I let you chew on it
because I love you, even though
the teeth you already have are
pretty damn sharp and your little
jaws are surprisingly strong. So
when your folks have to go out
for a little while, and the novelty
of sitting on my lap watching
American baseball in London 
begins to wear off, you become
restless. The Negroni  I’ve been
sipping for the last half-hour 
is down to its last half-inch, so
it seems like a good time for
Pops to introduce you to one
of Italy’s best ideas. I dip my
finger in the magical red liquid
and you are on it like Maggie
Simpson on a pacifier. A few 
more dips and slurps and the
parents walk in the back door.
How about you and I just
keep this on the down-low…