Call It What You Want...

Molars let you chew on hard stuff.

They make being a carnivore possible.

They are the coolest teeth to brush because of all that surface area.

If only Mark's would break through and stop hurting!!!

It might not be true. I might be completely out in left field on this one, but I think there's some truth here.

I think the small boy might be a tiger.

Yesterday, he punctuated with random declarations of "Raaah" in a most growly voice for a small boy. Add to that his insistence upon crawling on hands and knees through the kitchen -- a form of mobility that was given up months ago. When Daddy set him on his feet to walk, he returned to his knees. And came back in growling again.

This morning, we were reading the alphabet at the back of Richard Scarry's Best Word Book Ever, and we got to the picture for T: a tiger wearing a rain slicker. Mark pointed at it and said "Raaah."

Mind you, this tiger is standing upright wearing hat and coat, but that boy knows how it should be. He knows they walk on all fours. And he knows what they say.

One of his first board books asked the question "Are Tigers Ticklish?"

The answer?

Raaaaah.

It's 8:40 a.m. The small boy is having a joyous breakfast of Cheerios and milk and bananas. The doorbell rings.

"We'll be turning off the water at about 9 o' clock to work on the water line leaks down on the corner. It'll be off for about seven hours."

"You've got to be kidding!"

Sympathetic smile.

"You don't have a 15-month-old, do you?"

"No." Small chuckle.

"Well, thanks..."

Then it's off to give the boy another chunk of banana (he's entirely un-trustworthy with the whole thing) while I start filling buckets. I might have to use the bathroom today! I might have to drink water! Who knows how long it's been since I watered the plants? They may expire before the water comes back on! What about scrubbing the showers and solid-surface floors? Finishing the laundry? Washing the windows? Running the dishwasher? Boiling a half-dozen eggs? Taking a bath? For that matter, taking a shower???

Well, I have one flush in each toilet (except the downstairs one, which already got used. Amazing, isn't it how you suddenly have to GO when you know you have a limit???) and two buckets of water downstairs and two (smaller) buckets of water on the main level, and two bottles of water in the fridge. And, barring any unforeseen troubles in the repair, only 5 more hours to go...

A certain little boy still isn't feeling well.

This moment finds him upstairs, sleeping. Due to extreme congestion, he sounds rather like Uncle David or Grandpa Larry whilst he sleeps. A visit to the doctor today finds him "pitiful" but not bad enough for antibiotics yet. The parents are doing all the right things, says the doc. Mark played his part by leaning on mommy and fussing, not wanting to be weighed and crying through it and not even playing with the sticker the nice nurse gave him, as if to prove that, yes, you people, I am really sick. One ear has a little fluid (once again, not enough for concern), but the chest is fine. It's just the nose that isn't. And the mood. Sigh.

Feel better, little buddy.

With all the excitement planned for New Year's Eve, we decided to throw a wrench into it. First of all, grandma and grandpa did not get to come because of bad weather setting out, and then somebody small and usually agreeable came down with a fever. Mark spent New Year's Eve day sitting on someone's lap and dozing (briefly watching cousin Jonathan, and, for a brief moment, laughing at his antics) and then was up half the night as his little fever left him too hot for actual sleeping (100.3 at 3 a.m.). Fortunately for all, he's better New Year's Day (though he skipped church) and no longer has the fever. Now if only the teeth would come in!