Land Mines

Between Nick and me, Ellie has a significant number of genetic land mines we are both praying she avoids. My hair (or frog fur as my friend Carrie lovingly calls it), Nick's inability to sit in one spot for more than four seconds... I could go on and on but for the sake of our marriage and due to the fact that he is a key player in helping me "let nature take its course" to get this baby out, I'll just leave it at that and say that everything else about him is perfect.

One land mine we knew she would stomp squarely on with both feet, though, was bad teeth. She is screwed either way - Nick and I both had braces. The big question mark was whether her bottom row of teeth would look like a 100-year-old broken down picket fence or if she would be able to floss her top row of teeth through that picket fence.

Since I was little I've had a fascination with buck teeth and they run rampant on Nick's side of the family. In fact - I'm just going to say it - that was the reason I married him. The possibility that at least one of our children would be born with buck teeth.

There's just something about them that makes me so happy. Every time I talk to someone with buck teeth I am lulled into a dreamland trance and I can't peel my eyes away. And if they actually result in a speech impediment of some sort - OOOOH! You can't see it but I'm dry humping the couch right now.

I mean, who doesn't like someone with buck teeth?

When Ellie's top teeth started to come in I tried not to get too excited, but as of our trip to the zoo yesterday I'm pretty sure it's safe to rejoice the incisors.





I know, I know - I'm sure she'll hate them and I promise I'll get her some braces by the time she's ready to hunt for a husband.

But I'm going to enjoy them every day until then.