Thursday, July 8, 2010


I am pretty sure Sosie is teething.

How do I know, you ask? Because she keeps gnawing on my hands like a new puppy. Every time I am holding her, she chews and chews and chews on my hand - fingers, sidepalm, knuckles, whatever - and makes little dissatisfied growly noises when her gums aren't gnawing to her satisfaction and she has to readjust. After about five seconds of this my hand is dripping with slobber. Awesome.

We have teethers. But Sosie is so not interested. I don't think Scarlett ever was either. She would much rather chew her fists, her blankets, or Mommy's hands. I was holding Sosie the other night, giggling at her hand-gnawing growliness, when I said to Michael, "Hey. They should make a fake hand teether. So babies can gnaw on hands without it being your actual hand."

Michael gave me that smirk and nod, the one that is supposed to convey to me that I am an adorable genius while he is really thinking I am such a moron that I must be humored or I might fly into a rage. I am all pleased at my adorable geniosity. I think about my... Finger-Teether? Hand-Gnawer? GnawPalm? Whatever, that's what people hire marketing firms for.

I imagine little babies clutching their teethers happily. They will look like they have their very own Thing from The Addams Family. Goth parents will go wild. I'll win over the masses with a glowing review in Parents magazine.

Only one thing is left to do on my path to inventive greatness: Google it and make sure it doesn't already exist.