It has been said that I make good babies. I wonder, though, if said babies might be a little too good?

It occurred to me just now that the sleeping Kato looks a lot like a Chipotle burrito, specifically like carnitas with black beans, rice, mild salsa, sour cream, cheese and guacamole.

As evidence:

I’m a bit worried about what might happen if I were to be left alone with him. In my defense, my formerly generous diet has, of late, been reduced to the cast-off remnants of Robbi’s hospital food. Fortunately, the nurses buzz in and out of our room to poke and prod and otherwise evaluate his progress. So far, I’ve been able to keep myself in check out of fear of being discovered in the act.

It helps to hold him in various, un-burrito-like positions. Burritos don’t have hair, for example.

Nor are they commonly seen wearing knitted hats.

Thanks, Cousin Kate!

Pending the results of a bilirubin test, we may be heading home in a few hours, where I will once again have access to my fridge, and will hopefully put these confusing visions of my delicious child to rest.