Oh Irony, How You Taunt My Youngest Child With Your Cruel Literary Device Ways

Even french fry eating

is very serious

business.

My little baby girl is a real live, almost walking, not quite talking garbage can. She can eat anything even remotely described as food-like. Anywhere. Any time.

Wait a minute, that's a lemon.

A delicious lemon.

Or at least she would. If it it weren't for the teeth.

Which are currently best described as tooth.

I am not sure what minor infraction that Sage committed in a past life - perhaps she grafittied the Parthenon or put shaving cream in Napoleon's hands while he slept then tickled his nose - but karma is getting her back big time by refusing to supply her with the necessary choppers to satisfy the unabated hunger within.

It is cruel. It's mean. It's teasing and teasing isn't nice.

The rare photo in which Sage actually smiles at the camera instead of the food.

Thalia cut her teeth like a normal kid, a few on the bottom at 8 months, next a bunch on the top, add some incisors, coupla molars. Wham, mouth full of teeth. Poor Sagey, however, is about to turn one with just that lone tooth at the center top, hardly even halfway out.

(And the next one to come is its next door neighbor, perhaps a crueler hand dealt by the mistresses of fate as Sage is surely destined to be buck toothed for some time. But at least she will be able to eat artichokes.)

Sage wants to eat. She has to eat. She is dying to eat OH MY GOD MAMA PLEASE FEED ME SOME MORE FOOOOOOOD. And yet she is limited to that which she can gum.

Passover: The holiday in which God passes over all the toothless babies and makes them eat matzoh instead of lamb on the bone.

"Meh."

She ogles Nate's spare ribs with pure, unabated yearning. I only wish I could give it to her whole instead of shredding it into teeny little shards fit for...well, a baby. Although truth be told, Sage impresses with how well she puts the limited capabilities of the gums to use. To see her at work in that little wooden high chair of hers, legs dangling, jaw pulsing, is like watching a woodsman fell an oak with a plastic butter knife.

In a way, Sage is lucky that she's the second child with the demeanor to just shrug and do the best with what she's got. I think she's pretty much taking it in stride.

At least until a snappy carrot or a whole green apple ends up on her sister's plate and not hers.

And then she is defeated.

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EDITED TO ADD: Holy cow, I totally forgot about Perfect Post Awards today. Rats. Well if I were to have remembered in time, I'd have awarded Liz from This Full House for her post on Blog Reader Appreciation in which she not only took the time to link like a hundred billion great bloggers, but actually said something nice about each one. Which is so par for the course because Liz is one of the kindest, most giving, supportive bloggers in the history of all blogginess and related blogginess-type things.

Hope it's not too late to put a pretty button on your site, Liz. You earned it.