Dear Teeth, I Hate You

Pickles - the teething cure

Dear Teeth In Henry's Mouth,

I hate you.  I know that hate is a strong word, but I do.  I hate you.  And I'll be honest, I'm not even sure that you're on your way out.  But I can't imagine any other reason why my sweet, ten-month old baby boy is suddenly miserable.  And chewing on everything.  And losing his appetite.  And waking up constantly at night.  Plus, I can see the imprint of you- the proof of your terrible existence.

Now, don't get me wrong.  I want my baby boy to have teeth.  How else is he going to eat steak with me?!  He needs you and I know that.  But do you have to be such an asshole on your way out?  Can't you just show up one day with no fanfare?  Do you really have to announce your presence for a month beforehand?  That's really self-centered of you.  We do have other things to focus on, you know.

It's the holiday season and we're going to be traveling a lot, and staying in unfamiliar homes.  This can be difficult enough without you ruining things.  Plus, I get to spend a whole week off with my boy, and I'd rather you just decide what you're going to do before then.  Are you going to come out?  Fine, just do it already.  I hate seeing my boy in pain.  And if we're going for honesty here, I'm really tired, too.  I miss the days when Henry slept through the night.

But until you decide to make your grand entrance, I suppose we'll keep feeding him pickles to dull the pain.  And we'll give him medicine to help him sleep.  But I'm begging you, just pop out already so we can get this over with.  If it helps, I'm going to buy the cutest baby toothbrush I can find to take care of you.  That has to mean something, right?


Impatient, Tired, and Waiting Mama