The Family Drools

When I was a baby, I was a bit of a drooler. My parents enjoy telling The Husband stories of how many bibs I’d go through in a typical toddler day. Gee, thanks, Mom and Dad. I really want my Husband to hear me described with the words “faucet” and “saliva river.” Nothing says “sexy life partner” than drool references.

Although, really, who am I kidding? I STILL drool. I wish I weren’t designed that way, but there it is. I can’t help it that I am a mouth breather and look like one giant fly trap while sleeping.  I’m not sure where the problem is exactly: is it overproduction or an inadequate mouth reservoir? I swear I have a lower lip.

I am a natural born drooler.

Both Luke and Elise have, sadly, inherited their mother’s drooling tendencies.

I remember one day, being in a grocery store with then-3-year-old Elise sitting in the shopping cart when we passed by two store workers loading boxes into the freezer.

I overheard one of them tell the other under his breath (thinking that I couldn’t hear them but I have bionic-grade hearing): Look at that girl. She’s so big to be drooling.

(They were referring to Elise, not me.)

Luke has been the same way. Ever since he was a few months old, he has been “teething” constantly.  Every single photo includes a juicy clear droplet perched under his lower lip, or worse, a drool string connecting him to the nearest inanimate object.

I have photoshopped out drool strings on both kids for Christmas pictures! Perfect pictures except for the drool strings!

Then, yesterday, when The Husband picked up Luke from daycare, his teacher said, “Maybe you can ask Luke’s doctor why he drools so much.”

She thinks he might have a medical condition.

When I heard this, I laughed. So hard. Because YES. The drooling in this family is something else.

Well, at least eventually, they’ll outgrow it. One day they won’t be drooling 24/7, just confined to mostly private times with loved ones. And only the occasional public napping debacle. *ahem*