This kid is ready for center stage. She is not only a handful, she is a handful of ham (as Jack put it). The other day, she showed off to him by climbing up the entire staircase while he watched online. Today, she bounced around and squealed while stuffing fist-fulls of rice krispies in her beak.
I try to help by dressing her as a girly girl with a barrette one day, and then a punk rocker the next. That way, she can experience the gamut and be good at all of it. And then I will introduce her to my wig collection, and all will be holy and complete!
Tonight though, I'm hoping she takes an intermission from practicing for her Broadway solo by belting out the lyrics to her incessant teething pains.
Some sentient being creating chamomile tablets made for such a situation. After dissolving and then rubbing some on her gums I am told it should work to allow her to sleep without pain. Or maybe it just transfers the pain directly to my fingers since she nearly gnawed them off... Ouch! We shall see soon enough.
In case you were wondering, the gas tank boobytrap is still set... Once I do catch the siphoning simpleton, I will definitely let him/her get gummed to a pulp by the every chewing Miss Q!
Off to dreams of chamomile sans tea,
Not-a-Morning-Mama J & Broadway Que'd
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2 comments:
Growing up is a challange for both mother and child but you both seem to be doing well and making it.
Your baby looks good in punk rocker hair! Oh, the potential. Ha ha! I remember the days when my wife used to dress up our kids when they were still babies. She would make our kids wear her Jon Renau wigs, play a boy band CD in our stereo, and take a video of our kids while they belt out the tunes. Shh, my kids haven't seen the videos!
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