The danger of being a small pink bear in another bear's den

Today while Shawn and I were doing some housework, we put Reilly in her den with a few stuffed animals and plastic cups and let her entertain herself for a bit. She grabbed onto a teether and got to work. After I had finished mopping the kitchen, I came into the living room to find her worming about with a small pink stuffed bear sticking out of her mouth.

I laughed at her, my little girl ruling her den, and opted against removing the bear from her mouth, since she was using it as a pseudo-pacifier. I am so used to quickly removing various items from her mouth, especially paper, which has a tendency to soften and break apart in baby saliva. I don’t mind her eating paper, but I don’t particularly want her swallowing it. I also chose to leave the bear in place because I can’t stand the thing. It plays a rather high-pitched version of “Go to sleep, go to sleep…” when its stomach is pressed, which delights Reilly, of course. You might guess that I’m not a big fan of the tune.

I hopped on the computer to knock out a few projects, and listened to Reilly as she played in her den behind me. About ten minutes later, I turned back to her and there she was, the bear still dangling out of her mouth. She looked at me as if to say, “What? Do I have something on my face?” I broke out in laughter, and she smiled and the bear dropped from her mouth, its leg all gnarled and soaked with baby drool.