Every now and again, I look down at Sophie and she’s got this special look on her face: like she’s trying to hold something back, and spit something out all at once. Tonight, she had that look. Usually, when I see it, I sweep in and with one finger do a pass of her mouth. It’s typically something like catfood or dirt. While it sounds strange to those without children, I can live with catfood or dirt in her mouth. I’ve grown accustomed to them both. Thus, the rift that grows between those with small children, and those without.
Tonight, on the first finger-sweep, I pulled from her mouth one crushed, red-and-black wing. Panicked, I did another finger-sweep and pulled forth the mutilated remains of a ladybug. That’s new.
So, I gave her a big drink of water and thanked goodness that bugs are full of protein.