Teething

We're teething. The little one is the one getting the new teeth, but we're all feeling the pain. Nobody's getting much sleep, and we're all a little grumpy.

Yesterday morning, after my daughter finished a very long screaming session, she finally decided she would sit in her chair and eat breakfast. We enjoyed about two minutes of calm before my son ran over and took her bowl away from her. She began screaming all over again, very loudly, her fists clenched, her body shaking, even after the bowl was returned, even after I offered to feed her, even after we were all offering her our own breakfasts. As my frustrated husband was putting my son in time-out, he asked, "Do you like to hear her scream?" My son, wide-eyed, whispered, "No. Turn it off."

Last night my daughter, all screamed out, slept very well. However, as I said, we're all teething, so my son, used to waking to his sister's wails at 5:00 A.M., began wailing himself around that time. "It's still nighttime, sweetie. Go back to sleep," I called.

He continued to scream. We tried to ignore him and tried to get back to sleep. I thought the screams were getting louder, and I was just pulling the cover over my head to drown them out when a little face appeared at my bedside.

"Mommy!" my son wailed, "I want you to come in my room and get me out of bed!"

"That doesn't even make sense," I muttered.

"MOMMY! I NEED YOU!" he shrieked in my ear.

Cursing about Skinner's rats and intermittent reinforcement, I reluctantly got up.

I guess I figure the kid means business when he braves the dark hallway alone. When I was a kid, I would yell for my parents, but I would never, and I mean NEVER, venture through the dark house to their room. From my bed, I could see a green, coffin-shaped storage trunk in the living room, and I knew that Frankenstein would come out of it and grab me and bite me if I were to walk past in the dark. Yeah, Frankenstein. I didn't quite have that whole vampire/regenerated tissue thing worked out in my mind back then.

We don't have a coffin-shaped trunk in our house. In fact, there's not much scary in between the kids' rooms and ours. It's a straight shot. Lucky little dogs. You know, I'm calling my mom right now to see if that green trunk is still in her basement. I bet it would fit nicely right outside our bedroom door. That ought to buy us some sleep.