Tooth #4

Tooth #1 was brutal. Combined with an 8-day stretch where Quinn pooped exactly twice, it was as difficult a stretch as we've faced. Teeth 2 & 3 were not nearly as bad - both upper front teeth, with an endearing gap that gives his frequently-wielded smile an earnest and slightly Bobby-Clobber comical look. But Tooth #4 is on its way now, and while it's not as bad as #1 was, it's a bit reminiscent of it. He was up early this morning, wailing for an hour or so starting at 4:20am.

Yes 4:20am. And that's only slightly earlier than normal. Normal is 5am, with only minor variations. We finally got him advanced to 6am only to get a solid kick in the arse from the blasted time change. Back to 5am it was. Bec absorbs the brunt of it, bless her soul, allowing me to function for work. I'm usually up at 7am though, to get to see him for an hour or so before I go to work. He has slept slightly longer - almost as long as most books recommend as the minimum - when he has been sick with a cold. It's almost enough to make us dangle him in front of all passersby sporting colds (but not quite...).