Paigey Scissorhands

We think that Paige might be participating in some sort of underground Baby Fight Club.

I know. I know exactly what you’re thinking. Serves us right for raising our kids in Oakland.

Be that as it may, it’s still distressing to put an otherwise unmarked baby to sleep, then fetch her in the morning to see that her face and head are covered in scabs and bloody scratches. It so terribly sad, until Mark makes some comment like, “Yeah, but you should see the other baby.” Then you can’t help but laugh at your little cherub’s expense.

And before you suggest that we clip her fingernails, we have. On a nearly hourly basis.  In fact, several times we’ve considered taking her to a vet to get de-clawed. Unfortunately our insurance doesn’t cover that.

But seriously, it’s a bit of a mystery. Sure, there was a time when Paige had legitimate reason to scratch. But the eczema and cradle cap that for so long plagued her appear to be–please please don’t return just cause I’m writing this–gone. Is there some kind of phantom limb phenomenon at work here? Is she clawing at the memory of a dry itchy patch?

Or worse, is this some sort of compulsive behavior, like that sad polar bear at the Central Park Zoo who spent day after day swimming back and forth in the same exact rhythmic pattern? Sure, he delighted scores of schadenfreudian New Yorkers who came to gawk at something who was clearly more miserable than themselves. Despite the community service he was providing, I still wouldn’t want to be that poor bear’s Mama.

Call me a silver-lining seeker, but I can’t help but wonder whether all this self-mutilation means Paige is poised for greatness. I mean, take Angelina Jolie. She was a cutter in her younger years and look at her now.