Unfinished Thoughts on Drool and Necessity

The little guy awoke that morning, put on his sweater, tossled his hair and declared, "I am a baby and as such I have decided to drool.  Yes I said drool.  I shall exult in it all day.  Can I get an Amen?" 

And so he swaggered along, confident in his conviction, anchored to his determination, chubby to the cheeks.  It did not seem to occur to him that, lacking any tooth matter and only dimly aware of the full power of his tongue, drooling was a rather natural, almost thoughtless action, much like the breathing that he'd been doing for upwards of three months.  He was as bound to the drool as he was to his toes, if not more.  No matter.  The drool was the thing and the thing was his.  Selah.

It was later in the day, after much salivary success, that a mood of melancholy descended upon him.  "Salivation is not enough.  Mere nature and the tipping of the hat to supposed necessity doesn't get one far.  Exulting in it is even worse!  Who will deliver me from this body of drool?"