Teething, I would assume, SUCKS BALLS!

It is hard to imagine the pain an infant goes through while teething. My son, who surpassed the 9-month tier a couple of days ago has 4 teeth pushing through his gum line. To say he is pissed would be an understatement. Imagine he is a swarm of bees, and you just dropped kicked his house. That MIGHT describe his attitude. For as young as he is, he has no problem expressing himself. They are the same words, but the tone is different. So much so, the dogs in the neighborhood bark are annoyed at the pitch level. Yes, my son is a human dog whistle.

I bet if I were to pierce 4 different parts of my face, I could fathom his suffering. Wounded Knee is nothing compared to my son's angst. He just sits on the floor, attempting to play, drool coming out of his mouth like a Pfister faucet, whining about the pain, and there is really nothing you can do. Anbesol? Yeah, right. That stuff works for about 9 seconds until the saliva washes it away. About the same as Chloraseptic throat spray. What a bullshit product. Last night, he was sitting upright on the floor making noises. You know, those pissed off noises that we all make. Adults use words like, "Fuck this place," or "that son of a bitch cut me off." Babies grunt. The only accentuating quality to this type of communication is the change in volume mid-grunt. It starts out loud and ends up cracking the ceiling. Anyway, he did this and I called his name. He looked up at me looking like a man that had been out sea for 6 months catching king crab. Eye lids heavy, snarling smirk, slow head turn; six beers into a case. I think I heard him say, "Eh" when he made eye contact.

Now my wife asks him, "What's the matter?" What's the matter? His mouth is a pin cushion. If he could answer, I can assure you, it would not be pretty. Even at this age, mind you, he can convey cynicism. I just rolled my eyes. "Honey, he has a fever." I bet. There is enamel attempting to overthrow the epidermal government in his jaw. The body fights the infectious invaders by increasing body temperature. Then, the emissaries from both armies meet at the epiglottis to discuss the fact that, although painful, the enamel is a necessity. This war/negotiation lasts about 3 months. We started a couple of weeks ago, but the teeth are sending in reinforcements faster than the body can acclimate to the pain. So there he sits, in his puddle of drool, staring and speaking in incoherent patterns, a lot like Chris Farley's final hours.

So this was last night. His blood-to-Motrin ratio is quickly approaching the 1:1 mark. I imagine today will be the same. For the next 3 months, all I can is hope and pray that the negotiations at the epiglottis go well. God speed....