Teething

I can't remember when I was teething. Truth be told, I can't remember much of my life prior to three or four years old, but for small snippets of memory. It's probably for the best, since there's a lot of pain and frustration in store for infants.

Stephen seems to be teething. We were up at 4:30am for a feeding, and he didn't want the bottle. In fact, he was getting quite irate over the whole deal. We calmed him down, and then I fed him some apple sauce. Mommy fed him some green beans (his first time; he seemed to like them). Try the bottle again? No!

No fever. No open wounds. No disabling injuries. It seems as if he's just got a big, tooth-shaped chip on his shoulder this morning.

We broke out the teething rings. He prefers one to the other, at least until it gets too warm to be interesting.

I can hear my wife in the bedroom trying to calm him down. He needs to get a little more sleep; for that matter, so does she.

Me? I have to go to work now. The train leaves in thirty minutes. What a day it is likely to be.