the world can be divided into two camps...
i sorta dig wild generalizations. there are a few in which i truly believe, and others i just like to toss into the air, watching it float or fall flat: splat!
one such nugget that was tossing and turning in my gooey, sleep-deprived mind is that there are two type of humans: those who can be consoled and those who cannot.
i am of the first camp.
as of late, my daughter has joined the latter.
we tell ourselves that she is teething, that these high-pitched screams, these violent gyrations, these normally consolable fits are due to hard, angled bone mass shoving through soft and tender flesh.
but we're not really sure. we're consoled by the apparent normalcy of this reasoning, especially since her daylight self is cheery, playful, and seeking fun. we yearn to share her sunny disposition; each day less sleep turns me into a grumpski fusspot, and i'm a better person when sleep stretches longer than 3 hours.