Yesterday as I was seriously considering spending $150 on a series of baby books covering various disciplines in the field of physics, I had the opportunity to consider whether I was perhaps projecting my own regrets and thwarted desires onto my seven-month-old.
This gave me pause long enough for me to close the tab and eat something, so Edith has escaped for now, but it certainly will not be the last time.
(It did tickle me that the many reviews from parents of this particular series of books agreed that, while the content was excellent, the books were not of high enough quality to stand up to repeated gnawing. These comments were not, so far as I could tell, remotely tongue-in-cheek.)
Accismus 