Monday, May 01, 2006

teeth etc

Little babies obviously have really big immune systems because while I lay here dying, Daniel has been completely unaffected by a virus that seemingly encourages one's brain to explode before leaking out via one's nostrils.

The boy hasn't, however, avoided the rigors of teething. For a few weeks now, the lad has been chewing the crap out of his fingers, his thumb, his toys, my fingers, the washcloth, a towel, the floor, three wise men, two turtle doves and a partridge in a pear tree, all at the same time and with great determination. Until the other night though, any discomfort he's been feeling has been appeased by making a sodden mess of the veritable party he's been able to shove into his mouth. Dude is only small but already he's proving he has great potential should anyone require the entire universe be made damp. Anyhoo, come Thursday, his cheeks turned bright red, his fists were frantically being shoved into his mouth, and the drool was stupendous.

Lesson learned: while teething rings may soothe mothers, what with the nifty way they can be cooled in the fridge, thus helping to gently ease their babies into a toothed world, they don't work for shit.

Firstly, there's the issue of getting all of those fingers out of the child's mouth when one is frantically jigging a baby on one's shoulder in a vain attempt to console the screaming creature infant, when rather than the grappling hooks, winches, safety nets and quite possibly, the jaws of life one actually needs, all one has to work with is two hands. Assuming the digit extraction is possible, then there's the issue of placing the teething ring into the child's mouth, without releasing the two handed grip that was needed in the first instant to keep what amounts to thousand wiggling fingers out of the child's gob. Assuming one can achieve that, as one needs to explain to the kid that chewing, not licking, the teething ring is the ticket, one also needs a degree in gobbledeegook.

None of this mattered in the end, for situation Freak My Shit Out left as abruptly as it had arrived, and my little guy happily returned to the serious business of being cute, which he does very well, by the way.

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