Maya is teething.

“Put whisky on her gums,” they said. “They” are an assortment of experienced moms I’ve consulted.

“Can’t I use rum? I hate whisky!”

“Oh, I did that with (experienced mom’s youngest child) and she acted like she wanted more!”

Well, we can’t have that, can we? Yesterday, I bought the smallest bottle of whisky I could find: a 99-cent airplane bottle. This afternoon, we gave it a whirl.

Me: “Just let me get a little on your gums. I know it’s nasty, but it’ll help you hurt less.” (rubbing a dampened finger in Maya’s mouth)

Maya looks at me, then opens wide for more, please.

For crying out loud, Maya! If you’re going to like booze, fine…but whisky? Blech!

Let’s mix things up a bit…the baby has the adult fetching the dog.

This silly thing makes noises whenever it moves. “Uh-oh! (panting)” “(laugher) Wheeee!” “Yahoo! (barking)”

Clay hears it and DESPERATELY wants in on the fun.

But…why isn’t Maya playing with the toy for a photo?

Clay needed some action of his own, so started a rough-n-tumble wrestling match with Katie. Maya watched, fascinated.

…and dooce is living it.

Oh, Clay and Katie, you don’t know what’s about to hit you. Well…maybe Clay does, since he gives a slight wimper when Maya forgets to let go of his ear.

Again, take a shower. Is it the white noise, or just that she knows she’s stuck until I’m done?

Surely I’m not the only parent of my generation who gets a particular Pearl Jam tune stuck in her head on a regular basis.

Katie and Clay ask why all their precious floorspace is taken up by obnoxiously bright plastic gear. Is licking up baby spit really worth this?

It’s hard to believe that Maya could possibly be six months old now…yet at the same time, I feel like she’s been a part of my life forever.

I love you, Peanut!

I wrapped Maya in a towel on her bouncer so I could finish showering myself off…and this is what happened.

(thanks Davezilla for the heads up!)

Try it yourself.