Without a doubt, the softest thing I've touched recently is baby Aubree's skin. I've noticed that when my mother holds Aubree, she feels for a bare arm or leg and a smile of delight crosses her face as she strokes her. She may not be able to see the baby's sweet face, but touching her soft skin is the next best thing. The smooth, creamy plumpness is irresistable.
How to describe its softness? Well, Aubree's skin is softer than the pastel watercolor painting that hangs on our bedroom wall and it's softer than the feathery light down jacket I received for Christmas. It's softer than the bread dough that I kneaded for 15 minutes when I got ambitious and made homemade cinnamon rolls over the holidays. It's softer than the white Wonder bread and whipped marshmallow that I used long ago in making my daughters' peanut butter sandwiches. Its softness even competes with the downy fur of Bun-bun, my daughter Julie's pet rabbit. That's saying an awful lot, because Bun-bun is incredibly velvety.
I guess if I could put my hand in a batch of spun cotton candy, minus the stickiness, it might match the softness of Aubree's skin. Or if I could hold a white, puffy Cumulus cloud in my hands, it might be just as soft. But I'll never know for sure.
I think purity and innocence must be the secret ingredients in the baby skin recipe, causing it to win the contest for the softest thing on earth.
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