"All I want for Christmas...

...is my two front teeth."

Edith rarely lets us see inside her mouth. This morning, however, she was crying on the changing table, and the angle of the morning sun through the window illluminated two white lumps just below the gums at the center top. So it's finally official: We can stop arbitrarily attributing every health or behavior quirk to teething, as we have for four months, and now confidently attribute every such quirk to teething. (Never mind that Dr. Spock says, "Teething doesn't really cause anything except teeth.") We hope for her sake that they break through pretty soon, the better to manage things like this pickle:



And I think now is probably a good time to stop letting her gnaw on our faces.