Chew on This

Even though we had less trouble than anticipated with getting our now two-and-a-half year old daughter weaned off her pacifier, that didn't mean that she didn't find substitutes when she could.
Crib rails, the ear of her stuffed Minnie Mouse, even a chair leg wasn't safe from Savannah's terrible teeth.  Even I underestimated the sharpness of her teeth when I held her up for a goodnight kiss one night only to see Baby Dracula bare her fangs and bite into my cheek in mere milliseconds. 
Hard.
Not that I hadn't brought this on myself at one point or another.  In fact, while carrying her in my arms every once in awhile I whisper in her ear 'I'm gonna eat you up!'
She giggles and says 'don't eat me, Dad.' 
Margie gets in on the act every once in a while, too.  'Hey, leave some for me!' is what she'll say as she pretends to descend on our little munchkin.
Heh...I said 'munch'.  Hence the cute nickname.
Not long after our daughter's birth, we discovered Hyland's teething tablets.  The best thing since sliced bread.  My former co-worker, who has a son about a year older than my daughter can confirm this.  He calls it 'kiddie crack'. 
And Savannah can't get enough of it either.  Or so I thought.
'Want medicine' is what she'll sometimes say right before bed.  Or 'mouth medicine'.  We do give it to her, sometimes suspiciously as to whether it's a legitimate need, but fortunately, since it's homeopathic, it can't harm her in a normal dose.
Then one morning, as I was getting her ready for daycare, she asked for it again. 
I was tearing apart the drawer next to her changing table, trying to find it, but to no avail.
So I carried her downstairs with me to see if it migrated to the medicine cabinet.  I opened the cabinet, with my eyes darting about desparately seeking the elusive tablets.
"I found it!"  Savannah says triumphantly.
She actually reached for the Baby Orajel, which I had given to her when the tablets were off the market.  It's yucky stuff even for little ones.
"You want the Orajel, Savannah?"  I say with a raised eyebrow.  She nods.
I press an amount onto my fingertip and work it into the back of her teeth where molars are about to sprout.
"Thanks, Dad."
If she's reaching for the Orajel, she's serious.
Since we've had problems with her eating her dinner lately, we decided to give her teething medicine prior to eating.  It's resulted in her eating a little more.  Though she's not close to cleaning her plate, it's a good start.
And any start is better than none at all.


NEXT WEEK:  Caring Hands