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First tooth.

Last week (catching up on backlog of memories since my computer was down for a week), Pup was up more than usual one night.  I was deliriously tired because this followed a month of little sleep due to holiday travel, wonder weeks, learning to crawl, and other sleep disruptions (read: Cub).

Frustrated, I’d shush him really loudly as I brought him to bed to nurse him.  (JE called them “shush-punches in the face.”)

In the morning, when I was a little more coherent, I thought to check Pup’s gums for teeth.  He was almost 8 months and hadn’t cut a tooth yet.

Sure enough, when I ran my finger along his bottom gums, the jagged top of a little tooth came through the night.

Then I felt really bad.

My baby was cutting a tooth and needing more consolation than usual, and I shushed him so impatiently.

Sorry, Pup …

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