Doctor Teeth

Ethan’s got teeth (see above). Two on the bottom, one on the top, and a couple more popping through as we speak. This isn’t exactly a news flash, he’s had teeth for several months now, but as his mouth slowly fills up, it becomes an experience that repeats itself over and over again. The poor little guy gets a fever, gnaws on whatever he can wrap his sore gums around (i.e. the wood of his highchair, teether rings, my ear, etc.), and all-around feels miserable.  

Ever heard the phrase cutting teeth?  I have, even used it before in articles I’ve written as a way to describe how people earned their stripes in their respective fields (i.e. “Actor Dabney Coleman cut his teeth in repertoire theatre”), but never quite understood its meaning. It turns out that cutting teeth means almost exactly what it states, the teeth are actually piercing through the gums, and it’s not a comfortable experience at all.  

With yesterday being my first Father’s Day, and Ethan, or Bug as we normally call him, simultaneously getting his two front teeth in, it made for an interesting and memorable experience. I woke up this morning (Monday) to Ethan tapping my shoulder, staring at me with a huge almost five-tooth smile, and saying, “Da, da, da, da.” Which felt sort of like him saying, “Hey guy, thanks for taking care of me yesterday.”