If you hear…

…a long, ascending wail, say about 7:30 a.m. False European Time, perhaps followed by the sound of mournful, furious typing, don’t be alarmed. It’s just my mother, realizing I don’t keep my promises.

{Confidential to you-know-who: Scott is working late; I’m on solo baby duty and typing this very very quickly while she wails, neglected, in the background. You wouldn’t want your only grandchild to be neglected any longer, would you? WOULD YOU?}

P.S. How long do molars take to finish erupting, exactly? Do they normally dawdle in this excruciating fashion? Simone’s gums look like they’re stuffed with marbles, and I miss that thing I used to do at night, with the closed eyes and slow breathing. Could I just dig them out on my own?