With Teeth

It was some thirty one years ago that sharp little teeth first crawled up through my jaw and tore through my gums, so I have no recollection of how such a thing feels. I assume it is painful, or at least uncomfortable, as evident in the torturous cries from our teething Lydia. Through distraction (read: jumping) and providing a steady stream of toys and fingers on which she can chew, we are pretty much able to suppress these cries during the day. Overnight - not so much. And while I languish here at work in my musty gray cubicle and bathe in the harsh white glow of my monitor, I can safely assume that Terri and Lydia are currently at home and in a deep drooling sleep after being up half the night solving teething-related crimes.

I am sometimes envious of Lydia's life: being coddled and carried around all day, being encouraged to sleep for as long as possible, every morning being placed in front of a mountain of toys, being strapped into a personal trampoline device, being eye-level with the cats, having someone else bathe you and dress you and congratulate you on a particularly hefty BM, etc. But the teething thing - moreso than the inability to walk or lacking the dexterity required to operate the internet - doesn't really do it for me, and on days like today I'm thankful that I are an adult with a fully developed, albeit somewhat chipped and crooked, smile. Cheers to the obvious!

Here's hoping Mom and baby have a better day.