Rex was up all night getting new teeth. Molars, I think. He already has like, twenty-two of them, but apparently he needs more. Anyone want to join my pity party? Because even though I'm not the one getting the teeth, clearly I am the one suffering.
I define 'up all night' as bouts of waking up, screaming and hollering for Mama stretching for hours, punctuated by small periods of fitful moaning and sleeping, only to wake up again hollering just when I was drifting back to sleep.
The good part is that while I was up (all night, did I mention?), cursing my son's intrepid new teeth, I was also crafting this blog. So this morning all I did was sit down at the computer, put my fingers on the keyboard and tip my head sideways so the words could run out. No work at all.
Did I mention Rex likes to bite? I have a silver dollar-sized bruise on my right thigh where he sunk his choppers into me on Sunday, vampire-style. Every new tooth Rex gets sends a chill up my spine.
Right now both kids are outside playing with the hose, getting soaked. SOAKED. Veronica likes to put the hose into Rex's pants, which he really hates. When I told her about saving water because people in other parts of the world don't have enough, her response was:
"Fine. Let those people drink water from dams and underground then and let us have our hose."
Apparently I am not raising a future U.N. Ambassador. Dammit!
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