The Baby That Ate Manhattan (Not to Be Confused with The Fish That Saved Pittsburgh)
And this is before the kid has teeth. Gold help us when she does.
While I might normally be a bit more curious as to why my ten-month old is a bit slow going dental, I have a suspicion that the delay is actually a blessing.
Thalia takes after her mama in the not eating too many things department. Pasta? Check. Cereal? Check. I looking forward to summer so we can add fat peas to the list, thereby increasing it by 50%. Sage on the other hand is our little gluttonous foodie monster. Just like daddy. I can't think of one food she's ever flat-out rejected or spit out or flung at the dog.
But ah, if it were only food she's yearning to wrap her sweet lips around. I've had way too many panicked moments reaching into her mouth to fish out coins, hair clips, stickers (ugh, those stickers!), scraps of paper, mealy dog kibble, fuzz from the rug. I expect that if we x-rayed her belly it would be like the cartoon imagery of a whale's innards - some fish bones, an anchor, some old tires, a tin can. Maybe a trio of Russian sailors missing since October.
Each time I am sure that we have thoroughly cleaned the floor and put all choking hazard-sized items out of reach, Sage manages to find that one wayward penny. That one errant morsel of Iams. That one Dora sticker that lost its adhesive powers and slipped quietly slipped out of the sticker book and onto the floor. And never the big Dora either; it's always the backpack or the map, something small and virtually undetectable. Until I hear that scary gagging sound and shove my fingers into the back of Sage's throat to retrieve it.
I'm laughing. But only to mask my absolute terror about it.
I don't want Sage to grow up to fast. She's baby # Last and I'm enjoying her every day just as she is. But let me tell you, I am desperately counting down the days until she just gnaws on furniture and the dog food like normal babies do.