{Getta look at those mondo teefers}
My Momma {Baby W’s Grandmomma} is spending a few days with us this week and when she arrived today I found myself justifying all of Baby W’s actions to her:
“He’s crying right now because he has a big ole molar coming in {not because I turned off Sesame Street}”
“Oh, don’t worry he’s refusing to eat even one bite of his lunch because he’s teething {not because he’s stubborn and wants a cookie instead of pasta}”
“He wakes up a million times a night still because he’s cutting teeth {not because I failed at the cry-it-out method }”
“Yeah, he’s chewing on the side of the coffee table because it massages his gums {not because he’s weird and likes the taste of wood}”.
“Sorry your grandson is throwing a temper tantrum in the middle of the isle at Party City–his teeth tend to hurt around this time of day {it’s not because he’s mad that I tried to take off his Super Man costume so we could pay for it}.
“Put him in the crib?! Oh no, when he’s teething it’s better for him if he’s in our bed {it’s not because we are completely defeated at getting him to sleep in his own bed}”.
How much longer do you think I can go on blaming all of Baby W’s bad attitude and naughty moments on teething?
Have I mentioned he’s been teething since birth?
{Gotta love that toothy grin}
