Hi, Remy. It’s your mother.
You’re six months old–almost seven. And boy, are your teeth bothering you.
And they’ve been bothering you off and on for a while, now. Like, oh, two months? Three months?
Six, almost seven months?
I feel for you. I really do. Not that I remember getting my teeth in. But I remember having my braces tightened. And man, did that ever hurt.
It’s OK if you gnaw on my shoulder.
Biting while nursing is not acceptable.
Feel free to stick my fingers in your mouth. I’ll keep them clean for you.
Do you think you could find another way to tell me you’re tired and cranky and teeth-y, rather than shrieking like some sort of demented banshee? I would appreciate it.
Oh, and while I hope your teeth leave you alone ASAP, I hope that doesn’t mean your newfound love of rocking in the rocking chair will suddenly disappear.
Mommy sure likes that new leaf you’ve turned. 🙂