My little girl has been off for a couple of weeks, both off her schedule and just a few notches off from her usual temperament. She's been teething, and those two bottom teef cuttin fru must be mating under those gums because why else would they be taking the March of the Penguins by way of Antarctica to get here?!? Naptimes and bedtimes have been one long negotiation. The Parent Gallery chimes in --

Give her some Benadryl! What about shark teeth balm? Did you promise her an Audi if she takes a nap? Try shooting her out of a cannon! Works every time! But I know my kid. This is just going to be a process. The one advantage is that her daddy and I get to rock her. Sometimes for at least three rounds of "The sun'll come out to-mor-row...". But I don't mind. I get to hold that warm blubber across my stomach, get to see those wispy little eyelashes shutter slower and slower with every rock, get to buy just a few more moments time of Having a Baby versus Having a Daughter Who Resists Being Held.

It is upside of the job, like being picked to go clap erasers with Tony DeLorenzo whom you've had a crush on for three trillion years, Oooh, too bad, I have to go outside and stand alone and giggle in a fog of chalkdust with Tony DeLorenzo while the rest of the class has to copy down spelling words. I'm sorry, Tony, for pulling the remaining eraser out of the door jam that was holding it open so that we got locked out of school that day. I was just trying to buy some more time....