Usually, LO looks something like this:Notice the happy grin. Observe the joy with which the child greets the food that he will subsequently refuse to eat. Life is good.
Unfortunately, this has not been my child the past couple of days. The mouth is open, certainly, but the expression has more in common with thisthan with any of his normal expressions of glee.
It has been a tough couple of days, featuring sniveling, clinging to security objects, and frequent calls to Mom and Dad to please fix it. (I of course am referring to myself. LO has mostly been sitting under my desk chair and alternately crying and building his blocks while lodging complaints with the management for a near-constant level of malaise.)
Theories were put forward as to the sudden mood change in our sunny son. It was posited that perhaps he wasn't getting enough sleep. Since LO's mama is certainly in that boat and for the past few days has been quite the crabby patty when not caffeinated, this theory appeared to be the correct one.
Then LO went to his 15 month well baby checkup today (more on that in another post). He was subjected to wanton acts of vaccination before we were allowed to leave, one of which reportedly "burns" when injected. (The very nice nurse lady said she'd save the burny one for last, which made no sense to me. Get that bad boy out of the way, I say. But I think the difference between doing the worst first or last is like the chasm between those individuals who have everything boxed up and ready to go on moving day and those folks who start packing on the day the movers arrive. It's a basic philosophical difference wherein ne'er the twain shall meet.)
In any case, LO had quite a few choice things to say about the pricking of his tender thigh skin. I was able to calm him immediately after the ordeal with my mama boobie magic, but eventually we did need to get the child dressed, car seated, and on his way back home.
It was when I was (somewhat) unsuccessfully strapping him back in the car when I noticed it. The child had opened his mouth wide to make sure that everyone in the greater Lafayette area (and a few people with keen hearing in Chicago) was aware of how atrociously he had been treated, when I noticed something white, wide, and only slightly pointy on the back part of LO's lower jaw.
Ladies and gentlemen, we have a molar.
I have long thought that molar teething must be proof that G-d has a somewhat malicious sense of humor. "Let's have something flat, wide and blunt push its way through a sensitive area of skin when the individual experiencing it does not yet have the language to describe the level of pain nor the ability to drink whiskey straight from the bottle in order to dull it. That'll be fun!"
I am pleased to report that LO has not held my inability to stop his molar from plaguing him against me. After a long nap this afternoon, he awoke happy, hungry, and perfectly willing to overlook the whole needles/molar/other unnecessarily painful incidents of the day, which I consider to be damn magnanimous of him.
Now if I could just convince him that tooth brushing is the most fun you can have legally, and all would be good oral-health wise. Or as good as it can be while the child is teething.