Grace's teething stage has hit overdrive. Lots of gnawing, drooling, crying, drooling, sore gums and more drooling, yet only two teeth have popped through. I think one of these days she's going to wake up with five new ones at once. In the meantime, she's drooling so much that Jim Cantore is in my front yard setting up a live remote. I'd consider building an Ark, but I think Grace would gnaw through it faster than the termites.
In other awesome baby developments, Grace has started laughing. Not just grinning, cooing and squealing; she has delivered some full-on, cute as hell, HAHAHA belly laughs. Just not for me. I can earn the coos/smiles/squeals of delights, but no belly laughs. Amanda's the goddamn Richard Pryor of the family apparently, while Grace gets as stonefaced as Buckingham Palace guards at a Jim Belushi show when I try to make her laugh. Then, the other day, it got worse. Upon hearing some serious baby laughter I peeked around the corner to see Grace laughing at the cat. THE CAT. My nemesis, the cat, elicits hysterical laughter from my daughter where I cannot. I guess pooping in potted plants and pissing outside the litter box passes for funny these days. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go try to work up a hairball.
She doesn't get our constant movie reference style of humor yet but she will. once we make her watch all of them too even the bad ones
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