Monday, June 25, 2007

Drool, Drool Everywhere

In a household where we have a very orally fixated, nearly six month old, drool is everywhere. It is not as bad as having a bloodhound, mastif or shar-pei flinging slobbers here, there and everywhere but The Conqueror produces a lot of liquid. This has been going on since he was about ten weeks old; we go through upwards of 8 bibs a day. And we don't change them just because I think he needs a new look; oh, no, they are dripping and saturated with baby drool.

In addition to the baby who cannot keep his hands, toes, and anything else possible out of his mouth, we have a very prissy seven year old and many of her friends around. Her Highness loves The Conqueror; she really does. And he adores her in a way that delights me (and her) to no end. She is not bothered by his crying. She loves his laugh. His poopies and stinkers make her giggle. She cannot, however, handle the drool.

When it first began, my mother and family said, "oh, he is teething!" Well, four months and countless loads of slobber-soaked laundry, we still have no teeth. The Conqueror drools in our hair and (eek!) mouths when we hold him above our heads like an airplane. He slobbers on our clothes when he chews on them, our hands, toes, cheeks and arms when he gums them. Her Highness is, or should I say was?, thoroughly grossed out by this.

A transformation occurred a week or so ago. Her Highness and her royal friends were playing with The Conqueror and he slobbered all over one of the friends who shrieked and freaked out. "He drooled on me. Oh, gross! Drool! Yuck!" Her Highness was offended: "it is just baby drool, Princess, relax." She then proceeded to pick up The Conqueror (carefully, of course, and with me standing by) and say, "drool on me, buddy." Of course, he happily obliged and blew a raspberry in her face for good measure. Giggling ensued amongst all involved. It was truly a new day!!!

So, now the once dreaded drool has become the cool fashion accessory in my house amongst the posse of seven and eight year old girls in our neighborhood. The girls proudly show off their darkened slobber spots when The Conqueror gets drool on their clothes. They hold their (clean, of course) hands and arms near him so he can anoint them with the sacred spit. There is still much shrieking when the slobber is flying but now in delight instead of horror.

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