Connor's teething these days. Full-on chewing on whatever he can get his hands on (including his hands) teething. I don't so much mind that he puts everything in his mouth, that he nonchalantly cocks his baba to the side while chawing on it so much the rubber nipple squeaks. Why would I be put off by the liters of drool that soak into his onesies, pool on the table, run down my arms, or form secretive puddles in the carpet that only reveal themselves when stepped on? I'm not the one that needs relief from the pain of those little chicklets that just don't want to come out.
But poor 'Rado, that pain does bother him. He's a trooper about it, but we've taken to adding teething tablets to our bedtime routine. Scared off of gel analgesics like Ambesol, not impressed with the ineffectiveness of teething strips, and afraid of overusing acetaminophen, we took my sister's suggestion of trying natural teething tablets. Do they work? Not sure. But I know that over the past few nights after we've given them to 'Rad, he's slept pretty well instead of waking in the middle of the night, standing in his crib, wanting someone to keep him company while he doesn't sleep.
Speaking of not sleeping, the little dude has taken to waking up at 5:30 in the morning. I can try to put him back to bed and turn his noise machine on to squeeze out a precious 15 more minutes of sleep, but he doesn't agree with that. Now that he has learned how to stand up in his crib, it's a trick that he likes to practice way too early in the morning. He's thrilled that he can see you walk in the door, but little does he know that I sometimes wish, just a bit, that he hadn't learned that trick yet so I could quietly reach over the side of his crib and turn his noise machine on. That used to work. 'Rad-a-dude, you're getting too old for me.