Dear Pearly White Precious New Baby Tooth,
Good Morning. And afternoon, evening, middle of the night –
because you are with us all.the.time. While we eagerly anticipate your arrival
and appreciate your plans to propel our son from gummy, toothless babyhood to piranha-esque
chomping toddler town, please consider the following words of encouragement. As you make your beautiful descent to break through the gumline, PLEASE HURRY THE F UP! We get it. You want to make your appearance separate from the other two teeth that have already broken through, delighting us with their shiny white gleaming glory. You want to stand out, keep us in anticipation by hanging out near the surface – close enough to feel and see, but not yet puncturing the gumline. Oh, new baby tooth, you are such a tease.
Unfortunately, that is what makes this letter so difficult
to write. We know that your intentions are good, but, sweet naïve baby tooth, I write with bad news. L This ship has sailed. Your
grand entrance is kaput. We are OVER IT. Any chance of you having fanfare and
celebrations once you finally decide to grace us with your presence are gone,
zippo, zilch. Instead, your arrival has been replaced with extreme shrieking, uncomfortable
wiggling, huge crocodile tears, massive amounts of congestion, sniffly kisses,
snotty shoulders, and sad, sad baby frowns. In other words, huge distractions
that do not bode well for your miraculous emergence. You have missed your
window. We were excited to meet you last week, but regrettably you decided to
prolong the celebration and take your sweet little pearly white tooth time to
join us.
But wait…I write in a surviving on one hour of sleepy, foggy
haste. Let us not forget to express our extreme appreciation for your ability
to intercept the lovely pain relieving magic that our friends at Tylenol and
Advil have so graciously provided. And, we can’t overlook your skill at causing
so many wonderful bursts of gum sensitivity that no teether, finger, hand, or
random hard/squishy/soft object can alleviate. What were we thinking trying to
employ products specifically designed to assist you with your magnificent
entrance? Well played, new baby tooth, well played.
Sadly, your 15 seconds of fame have passed, we are moving
on. There will be no balloons and streamers when you arrive, no dancing and
shouting from the rooftops - namely because we are exhausted from you interrupting
much needed deep sweet slumbers, a tad hard of hearing from your influence on
the great and powerful lungs, and, did I mention, OVER IT? Please, cute innocent new precious baby
tooth, HURRY THE F UP! Our minds, our hearts, and our sanity thank you.
Sincerely,
A family of 4 who desperately need a moment of reprieve to
breathe. And think. And sleep. Definitely sleep….because wine and chocolate can
only last so long…and are apparently not good for babies or 7 year olds…
P.S. If you would be so kind as to share this lovely heartfelt
letter with your next door neighbor, who I am sure is planning his arrival any
day now as well. We may be willing to provide a bit of excitement once you
arrive if you encourage your fellow toothmates to PLEASE HURRY THE F UP! Your
prompt assistance in this matter is appreciated.
P.P.S. Did I mention that I love you darling, sweet, lovely
new baby tooth? J Please
remember to use your awesome new found biting powers for good as the child you
are inhabiting is exclusively breast fed…..xoxo!
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