Moving map

I like having predictability and order and thus far I've found parenting to be severely lacking in that department. You never have any idea what to expect next with babies. (Is this where she's going to make the babies don't come with instruction manuals joke?) Consequently I like to latch onto small hints and construct predictions for what is going to come to pass. (Oh God, she said pass. Is this post about intestinal gas?)

When I'm flying on Delta, which is always, I have to keep checking the moving map to see how much farther we have to fly. Usually we are still in Kansas and I reconfirm that the middle of the country is much bigger on the actual map than on my mental map which features two coasts, Texas, and a couple of squares in between. Even though there is nothing I can do about it, I just need to know how far we've gone and how much we have left to endure. It is the same with teething. There is nothing I can do and these aren't even the last teeth, yet I find myself constantly checking on their progress. Are they through yet? Are they almost through? Will we ever sleep?

Turns out I've been overdoing it so much that B can't stand it anymore. Now whenever I put my fingers near his mouth to try to feel his new molars, he rips my hand away, and screams. Recently he has even started shoving his fingers in my mouth and laughing. I'm actually kind of proud of the attitude it takes for him to try to get me back.