This is a follow-up to an earlier post titled, “Dear Sophie, Get Over Yourself.”

Dear Sophie,

I want to make a formal apology for the poor review I gave you a few months ago. If you would be so kind, please allow me the opportunity to explain myself.

You see, I believe the timing was a bit premature when I first introduced you to Annie. She was only four months old. How could I have expected her to connect with you when the only thing she seemed interested in connecting with at the time was my boob? How silly of me.

I know that I called you boring, but when I look back on it, I think Annie was the boring one. I mean really, what does a four month old do that is that interesting?

Then there is the business of me poking a little fun at you for being French. You know, the French have some very nice qualities. Plus, it’s safe to say that some of the finest wine, cheese, and baked goods have come out of your country. Thank you for that, by the way.

Remember how I didn’t think it was that big of a deal that you are organic? Well, it turns out that I’m actually relieved that you are organic. Watching Annie try to -what can only be described as- gnaw your face off with her iron gums, it is reassuring to know that you aren’t going to poison her little body with any chemicals.

Finally, I’m sorry I compared you to the three pack of dogs toys sold at Costco. You are so much more than that. You are my saving grace. The thing that keeps me, and Annie, from falling into the fiery pits of teething hell. You have been there for me in the darkest of times. You have been my rock, my savior, and the one person I can count on to really pull through for me.

My dearest Sophie, please forgive me.

Yours Truly,

Morgan