I just retrieved a carrot from a nostril. That is not okay. My dad’s response to this, apparently unremarkable, news was, “Won’t be the last. At least you got it out without medical intervention.” OK, Good point, dad. But still– Is produce in the nose going to be a regular occurrence from this out? Man, oh, man. This was not in the brochure.
The carrot incident was just a mild lunchtime snag compared to the teething hell that was Thursday. Zachary was having a particularly hard time with tooth #16. Bottom left. Four popcicles, three humphreys tabs, and a teaspoon of baby Advil later, I still had a rather contrary gentleman on my hands. So we took to the outdoors.
Ever since Zachary was born, walking around the yard or swinging on the porch, or just simply sitting outside seemed to have nearly instantaneous calming results. We have watched many summer rainstorms from our log cabin’s expansive front porch, hoping to skirt the fear of thunder later on. So today’s goal was to treat the teething woes with some dirt and sunshine.
Zac was content momentarily, tracing his little fingers around the top of my watering can, humming to himself, until he heard his mother shriek out in unholy terror. Apparently, a shiny, black garden hose looks right much like the largest snake on earth at first glance. And at that point, since we both needed a change of scenery (and pants) we retreated back indoors.
Legos? Thrown. Books? Weapons against unsuspecting cat in chair. Trains? Used as soccer equipment. I GIVE!!!!!
And finally, so did Zac. And as I listen on the monitor to his even, relaxed breaths, I take a good deep one for myself. And I smile, knowing that this afternoon, it’s daddy’s turn.