Nose not teether.

I get it now. The baby shark song. It has been eating at my brain for sometime. In my midnight mummy musings I have wandered why sharks? Why baby shark?

For a few days now, I wake up to this sight: My baby’s face approaching in slow mo, her mouth wide open and then her gums with a beginnings of a fang, clamp down on my nose which is the only feature that sticks out like a tempting teether for her.

Somewhere between the land of consciousness and sleep, I open one sleepy eye and see her chubby face approach, baby shark mode and I start laughing anticipating the bite marks that would follow for sure but unable to resist her cuteness.

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