Little Miss Pink is awash in dribble. It pours out over her chin and gushes down anything she's wearing. Without a bib she is soaked to the belly button in about the time it takes to go and get a bib from the drawer. Combined with her mushy food and finger food, of which she is very keen and generous to her surroundings, she now has a lovely hardened green/yellow food/dribble stain on every top and singlet she owns. Life is glorious.
She blows bubbles of dribble and rubs the spots of dribble into the carpet.
She's the bishop blessing every toy with her holy water.
She's the taste tester thats puts everything to the mouth for assessment, then spits it out.
She's the lady at the party who's drunk too much champagne and sprays you while talking loudly with glazed eyes.
She has two bottom teeth which are invaluable help for masticating marmite toast, but she is definitely working on more. Two white mounds are rising in her upper gum, like the earth rising before the mole erupts from his digging spree. And the river of dribble flows by.
She's ever so cute in her Amber beads, which based purely on no scientific evidence what-so-ever seem to have reduced the frantic finger and furniture leg chewing behaviour.
So its a busy week for the tooth fairy in our house, what with the four wisdom teeth I had out yesterday, and the imminent arrival our her royal dribbly-ness' new pearly whites. Luckily my darling mum is here to help with practical things like food and school runs, while our girl chews the house down and I swan in bed blogging and sucking food through a straw.
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