Teething, man.
I thought I had a grip on it.
“Aw, honey—are your teeth bugging you? Here’s some frozen fruit and a hug.”
And then the molars started arriving.
Me: “Good morning, sweetheart! What should we do today?”
Toddler: *Screams* *Drools* *Chews on fingers*
My molar survival kit?
- Pacifier
- Mickey Mouse cartoons
- Motrin
- Cold applesauce
- Ice cream (For me. For the sympathy pains. It’s a real thing, okay?)
- Long baths (okay, quick showers because it’s like 100 degrees right now) at the end of the day when I mentally prepare myself for the next day and the amount of times I will have to say, “No chewing on the remote control” and “You’re scaring the dog.”
Hang in there, teething babies.
And you too, mamas.
WE CAN DO THIS.*
*not actually sure if we can do this
Hi Ma H! This post really had me reflecting on the circle of life, as my tongue continually revisited the gaping maw in my gums left by the extracted molar that once dwelt there. So much trouble growing and sustaining the damn thing, and then it becomes ravaged by time and must be removed! Cue the drooling, screaming, finger-chewing, Mickey Mouse, and cold applesauce! (Only with the addition of straight whiskey and Codeine.) Too much perspective. *Joins Corky in the tub to further contemplate existence.*
I think we all need to join Corky in the tub to further contemplate our existence. (UGH, so tired of typing that sentence.) Your poor molar. Teeth, man. What’s the deal with them? Surely there should be a better invention by now. They’re nothing but trouble! (Lucy reminds me of this every time I try to brush her teeth.)
I’m reminded of a quote that I would like to leave here for you:
“But what I’m saying is if they forget it anyway, then what difference does it make?”–Corky St. Clair
*bites pillow*