Yesterday I held a friend's plump baby boy on my lap and tried to make him laugh. It wasn't hard. I played Peekaboo, made funny faces, and sang silly songs. There were others in the room, but I had no shame. There's just something so magical about babies that we lose all sense of propriety and decorum. Manners and maturity go out the window when there's a baby around. We sniff their heads. Blow raspberries on their chubby tummies. Threaten to eat their little toes and gobble up their perfect cheeks.My theory is that babies have magical powers. They may not be able to leap tall buildings in a single bound or stop time in its tracks, but there's no doubt about it -- they're experts at casting spells of love.