Brushing Bug Teeth

I guess it was a few weeks ago now (around the time that the Bug's teeth came out like popcorn), that Wifey and I felt like it was time to get her first toothbrush.  The Bug agreed wholeheartedly.

What the Bug doesn't appreciate very much is taking the toothbrush away.  She'd brush for half an hour, if we'd let her.  We're left with either trading for something, or waiting for her to put it down so we can snatch it up without her looking.

The toothbrush has become a pacifier of sorts.  If it weren't a narrow spire of plastic perpetually protruding from a not-too-careful toddler's mouth, there'd be no problem letting her hold on to it all day.

Some credit may be due to the Very Berry toothpaste we got for her.  (Is she really brushing her teeth with sugar?)  Doesn't much matter, though.  We wouldn't want to discourage a good habit anyway.

Last week, Wifey and I were on the couch watching the Bug slow down on her evening play.  We mentioned something regarding it looking like time to grab her toothbrush.  As soon as she heard the word "toothbrush," the Bug stood up, laughing, and toddled her way to the bathroom as fast as I've ever seen her go, jibber-jabbing all the way.  She didn't even look back to see her mom and I saying through dropped jaws that we've reached the spelling stage.

To The Letter

Recognizing the the Bug loves to play with magnets, wifey and I decided to splurge on a two-buck set of her own (after a couple nice clay ones broke). The set is, or should I say, was, the English alphabet.

I almost managed to arrange three neat rows before tiny Bug hands raked through them with gusto. They make a satisfying crash of plastic on wood as surprisingly few wind up under the fridge. Since we have cats, retrieving toys from such dark, narrow passages never takes much time or trouble.

So well received were these magnetic letters, that other toys needed to be carried to the kitchen for joyous communion. Not all toys could make the grand opening, so the Bug thoughtfully organized a tour of several choice letters at a time.

Only so many letters can fit baby fists. What's a girl to do? Oh, right. A couple more letters can ride comfortably inside one's mouth.

Such letter carrying behavior adds an equally amusing and concerning element to her newfound habit of alternately waving her arms whilst making growly noises, much like a b-movie dinosaur might.

Remind me to write about her toothbrush next week.

Silly Sneezer

Excluding my sneezes, the Bug finds most sneezes amusing. Not fall-out-of-your-high-chair-with-half-a-noodle-coming-out-of-your-nose hilarity. But, worthy at the least of a smile and probably not to exceed a giggle with applause.

At some point recently, she made the connection between the phonetic spelling of a sneeze in her books and the actual percussive phenomenon. Now a certain amount of every play time involves fake sneezing. With a series of drawn out "aaaaaaaaaaaaaathu's" and appropriate responses.

However, I'm calling her first word, "uh oh." She knows it when she hears it, she says it quasi-appropriately, and I can't quite make heads or tails of the Hindi-esque babble she ordinarily runs with. (Or maybe it's Urdu... I would definitely need a different alphabet to spell it out.)

We have confirmed molar sightings. We're finding it rather hard to keep up with such things. The Bug has proven rather splendid at grinning and bearing it.