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.