This is what a brand new baby book looks like. A classic, written in the 1940's and still read by babies to this day. I do consider myself to be old-school when it comes to discipline, but I am guilty of participating in the modern day paranoia-style parenting as well. In the hospital, just after she was born, I read my magazines to baby. I came home and read technical wine books to her in a really adult, non-parentese voice. I am seriously trying to "build pathways in (her) brain needed for successful reading experiences" in the future. We have probably one hundred baby books at our fingertips. I keep the classics close at hand: Goodnight Moon, Goodnight Gorilla, First Book of Sushi (give me a break, food is our livelihood) , and also Pat The Bunny.
That is until recently.
A picture from the scene of the crime:
What's left of the victim since baby got "hungry" for a good book this afternoon. Please note Paul and Judy's look of dismay at nearly being eaten.
She threw up four times, eventually regurgitating a good chunk of the peek-a-boo with Paul page. Good God. A frantic call to the doctor had her reassuring me that baby was "just getting rid of something that didn't need to be in her stomach." Really?! On a positive note, she complimented my choice of reading material for baby. Score one for Mommy.
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