At my nephew’s birthday party on Sunday, I was feeding Punky a taste of potato salad with my finger and I felt something sharp in her mouth. Honestly, my first reaction was a second of panic…I thought she picked something up off the floor. But then I quickly realized it was the tip of a tooth on the bottom. Finally.
The night before, she woke up crying about an hour after she fell asleep, and there was just no consoling her. I thought she was scared because she wasn’t at home in her crib and I was not in the room when she woke up, but even when I picked her up and did the usual rock with her, she continued to cry. And she was smacking…making the strangest faces and sounds with her lips. After about twenty minutes of fairly hard crying, she put her head on my shoulder and fell back to sleep. It seemed odd, but I didn’t put too much thought into it. She slept the rest of the night with no problem.
Now I figure it was probably the tooth breaking through the gum line. Poor thing. I didn’t even give her Tylenol. I was clueless. After months and months of chewing with nothing to show for it, a tooth breaking through was the farthest from my mind. Bad mama.
So we need to bid farewell to that beautiful, toothless grin that has melted our hearts for the past ten months and get used to a smile that will be ever changing for years to come. It’s a great achievement for her, and I’m happy…yet at the same time it’s just one more sign that my baby won’t be a baby much longer. And that makes me sad. It’s a double-edged sword, this growing up stuff.
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