- Child wears stupid amber necklace to mystically help with teething.
- Person who categorically hates dogs.
- Child is named something ridiculous and totally made-up or ethnically inappropriate; e.g. the child named "Rylanta" I once met. Or Trygve. Just. Don't; this is neither Norway, nor a commercial for intestinal disorders.
- Loathes the South in all its incarnations.
Of course, this is all completely theoretical, since I don't have any friends here, anyways.
On a similar but related note, Bug has been out of his fucking mind since we got to Mountain Town. Every time we walk in the door to our new place, it takes less than five minutes for the screaming hitting tantrums to start again. I'm sure it will get better, but I'm seriously considering locking myself in the closet with a bottle of wine.
And on that note, some good things:
1) There is a winery in this state that sells quite affordable, amusingly-named wine.
2) Perhaps my latest allergic-ish reaction was not to wine, but instead to... I have no idea. 3) At the Walmart Grocery today (open 24 hours! I needed more rice milk, and a garment rack, because the closet rack collapsed) Tatoe was sitting in the cart with scraped-up knees and a bottle of wine, and I had an amusing conversation with two other women about just how many glasses of wine we all felt we needed at the end of the day. One of them had six children; I suggested an entire bottle. The other one had two, but said she'd take the whole bottle if offered.
4) The local botanic-ish gardens feature a large children's play area with its own hose and bucket and collection of water-holding instruments. (Next time, I need to put swimsuits on, though.)