Germs.

"Momma, bend down."
(lean over and look at Ryan)

"No, like sit on the floor on your knees."
(sit on my knees) "OK... what do you want?"

"This..."
He reaches up and kisses my forehead.
"Oh, thank you Ryan!" (lean to kiss him)

"No."
He kisses each cheek, my chin, my ears, my shoulder, my nose.

"I can't kiss your lips Momma. Lips have germs."