Well, it’s here. The teething is here. Sam’s first tooth is coming in as. we. speak. It’s his lower right tooth, for those of you who get into details. He’s been handling it pretty well, considering his inexperienced parents didn’t catch on right away. Last night, Sam cried for about forty minutes while I was trying to get him down to sleep. I thought he was wet — nope. I thought he was just being obstinate, which often happens when trying to put him down to sleep, because he doesn’t like to miss anything. That wasn’t it either. The final trick is always feeding him, regardless of the last time he ate. While I was feeding him, he was literally whimpering. Little mewing noises, like he just didn’t have the energy to cry anymore. It was the saddest little noise. I brought him downstairs and felt in his mouth (which I’ve been doing for a couple of weeks, waiting for teeth), and there it was — a sharp little bump. My little man is getting a toof. I gave him Tylenol and an ice cube, and proceeded to feel awful that I didn’t get what he was so clearly trying to tell me and he was hurting. We’ve kissed and made up, but that little whimper haunted me all night. Because I was up with Sam three times. Apparently, when you cut teefs, you give up sleeping. Like Catholics and meat during Lent. Only more painful.
Welcome Teefs January 11, 2009