Baby eater

I've never been a big fan of babies. Up until quite recently that is, when I nearly ate one by mistake.

I just never know what to say to them. Whenever a proud mother hands me one I rush through the list in my head of Useful Topics to Discuss During Awkward Introductions. None of these subjects—Iceland; The Weather; Myself etc—ever seem to really engage the child. And I outrightly refuse to do that grown-adult-makes-baby-noises thing. So I inevitably end up standing there silently, clutching onto it clumsily, waiting for it to be taken back off me again.

Earlier this year, however, I was at a photo shoot for an advert that just so happened to be about a baby. Sitting on set, waiting for it to all get going, the baby in question was plonked on my knee. Uh, I'm the art director, not the bloody nanny, I thought crossly as I sat there grumpily waiting for it to be taken back off me again.

But there was something about this baby, I don't know, it'd had its bath or something. It was just so warm and toasty; it smelt like melted butter and talcum powder: baby cake mix. It wrapped its tiny hand around my finger, like only babies can do. And all of a sudden, out of nowhere, I got this sudden urge to kiss its head. I looked around the studio. Is it okay to kiss another person's baby's head? I'm not really sure about the etiquette on this kind of thing. I took a chance and did it anyway. Touched my lips down on its fluffy hair, barely there at all, like duckling feathers. It made an appreciative gurgling noise, smiled up at me. I cuddled it a bit more. Oh, it was so gorgeous! God, I could just gobble it all up and wash it down with some Kókómjólk, it smelt so ... delicious. I looked around the studio again. Everybody was still busy. The stylists were with the models, the photographer was fiddling with the camera...

Uh, just kidding. Of course I didn't really eat that baby. But the important thing here is I wanted to. Me, Annie Rhiannon, the babyphobe. The one in my family voted Least Likely to Ever Reproduce. One minute I can't even bear to hold one and the next minute I want to eat one?

I must be getting soft in my old age.