Last week Z went to the doctor on Monday about the longest standing cough in the history of the world. She received antibiotics, when we promptly began administering, and the cough wandered away, but the fuss-factor intensified.
So much that on Wednesday morning when I dropped her at daycare the teacher was hypothesizing that the antibiotics were upsetting her tummy because, "she's fussing a lot for no apparent reason, and that isn't normal for her". I agreed.
Saturday morning at the grocery store she wanted to be held.b By me. And only me. The. Entire. Time. At one point I was convinced that my arm was about to fall off, so I tried putting her down and convincing her to take a FUN!!! ride on the shopping cart, something that she had totally adored the previous week. She sat down crying, "No mommy, 'top it!" I said, "Ok, Z, if you're going to sit, I'm going to finish shopping, bye!" and started walking away. O.M.G. She escalated to a full wail, jumped up and ran over to me. I crouched down and hugged her while she cried and cried, and then (sucker) picked her up and resumed shopping. I felt like the meanest person in the world. I almost cried from my heart breaking. I'm still almost crying just typing this.
I mean, I would do it again, probably the exact same way. I don't want to get into those battles with her, and I called her bluff. But, oh, it hurt!
Anyways, she continued the random unreasonable crying, and just when I was so frustrated I was getting ready to pinch her little head off, I had a brainwave.
"Zoë, can you show Mommy your teeth?"
She opens her mouth. I can't see anything.
"Can I touch them?"
She leaves her mouth open. I reach in and feel, wait for it, at least FOUR molars breaking through.
This is weird: she has 4 front teeth on top and bottom, no sign of any canines except a big smooth-gummed gap, and now molars coming in, both sides, top and bottom.
Poor baby. I wrote her a free pass for the rest of the weekend. And felt even more like an ass.
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