On learning facial features

It's a truly wonderful, heart and mind expanding thing to watch a newborn begin to recognize and explore its surroundings.

Before she ever learned the comparatively obscure locations of her "bump" and "gyna," Addison was fascinated by the bits popularized by Mr. Potatohead (no, I'm not talking about that trap-door in his behind). The nose was an obvious one, since mine is quite long and pointy, and rather prominent. In fact, she'd had a relationship with my nose almost from the beginning:

Though I don't think she got out of it what she was looking for.

Ears were next, and you'll note that mine stick out a little further than average:

Maybe it's hard to tell in this picture, though the arrows should point you to the appropriate locations. Those other two things at the sides of my head are babies. The one on the right is mine.

Really, it's like the bumps and holes on my head were designed uniquely for a baby's learning pleasure. Lots of places to fit a skinny finger into a skinny hole. Squeeze the right thing, and you get a sound. Poke the right thing, and you get a different, louder sound. I should charge money to let babies feel my face, maybe market myself for Fisher Price:

Of course, it's all fun and games until you get your eye clawed out by a ten-pound ninja assassin. She didn't know any better; I can imagine her waving her fingers in the air proudly as though she had olives on her fingers. Fill in my eyes for the olives, and I hope it makes you cringe a little, just like I did.

And down they go. Babies will eat anything.