Too soon

 

See that? He’s teething. And not just drooly, shoving things in his mouth, a tooth may arrive sometime in the next few months teething- there’s an actual tooth pushing through the surface. His gum has split and you can feel that fucker. The Fiendling, brow furrowed, can’t stop poking at his sharp spot with his tongue. He wants to be his usual happy-go-lucky self, but that shit hurts and he’s got the middle-of-the-night waking and tugging on his ears and scrunching up his face and whimpering to prove it.

I blame it on Boyfiend. Though she can’t remember when he got his first tooth, his mother tells me he had eight teeth by six months. Eight. Most kids don’t even get a tooth until after six months, but Boyfiend had to go ahead and be an overachiever.

So yesterday, while Boyfiend helped his dad cut up a fallen tree, his mom stayed with the Fiendling so I could run to Target and pick up some teethers. Every single one of them said not to put it in the freezer. I’d already given the Fiendling one frozen rattle which he seemed to enjoy immensely, but because I’m cautious I put the new ones in the fridge. Useless. Even though it’s cooler here than it has been in weeks, as soon as they left the fridge they were room temperature. So now they’re all going into the freezer. And if they explode and the Fiendling ingests some of that weird gel I’ll probably win some kind of award for the worst mother of the year, but at least he’ll get some relief in the meantime. Posted by Picasa