My daughter the goat

Crayons.  Markers.  Dog food.  Cat food.  Cat litter.  Fuzz.  String.  Ribbon.  Hair bows.  Wash cloths.  Cotton swabs.  Baby wipes.  Toilet paper.  Toilet paper rolls.  Paper towels.  Paper towel rolls.  Tissues.  Napkins.  Construction paper.  Receipts.  A check for $250.  Magazines.  Books.  Blocks.  Sticks.  Stones.  Sand.  Keys.  Miniature tweezers.  A wooden fence.  I know you must be wondering what all of these things have in common.  If you guessed that these are all items my daughter has eaten or attempted to eat, you would be correct.  I am convinced her spirit animal is a goat.

Now I know that babies are little masters of discovery and exploration and use their mouths to learn about things.  I reminded myself of that over and over again when Sofia was a baby and destroyed book after book.  Eventually, she was bound to learn that books aren't for consumption, right?  I again reminded her father of that when she ate half a check waiting to be cashed.  Eventually, he was bound to learn that important things shouldn't be left within her reach, right?

Sofia is now a toddler, and while she is rapidly approaching the ripe old age of two, her gnawing has not abated.  She can say over 300 words, she can sing her ABCs, she can run around like a little ninja when she wants to avoid a diaper change, but she cannot will not stop putting inedible objects into her mouth.  If she is so mature in some ways, why not let go of this little vestige of babyhood?

I don't have an answer.  I'm not sure there is a good one.  She is a strong-willed, curious tot who mostly does as she pleases.  Fortunately, that usually coincides with what I please, but there will continue to be times when it does not.  In fact, the older she gets, the more she will likely exert her independence and free will in ways that do not particularly thrill me.  That's growing up.  It's a rite of passage I enjoyed myself, and I wouldn't be so selfish as to want to cheat her out of experiencing the thrill of shocking me with her choices now and then.  But could she just cool it with the chewing already?

P.S.  For those of you who are wondering (I know I would be) how Sofia got a hold of miniature tweezers, the answer is simple; her father let her chew on them.  You know, because they're such a safe, trusted teething toy.