So I have this baby that I'm kind of obsessed with. He's a cuddler, a momma's boy. My last. He wears footie pajamas, has a nuk and a blankie and still sleeps in a crib. The thing is that he's not a baby. He's four and weighs close to 40 pounds. But still, I carry him everywhere. This bums out my husband because he is just waiting for the baby to finally be his ally in a house of crazy ladies. Fair enough. Tonight we were at dinner and the baby wanted to sit on my lap. So I hauled him up and he started to smother me with kisses. Husband was so over it. He was like (in a whisper), "Enough with the PDA. He's too big. It's like Brooke Shields and Webster."