My baby’s poorly – and it stinks.
No, really, it stinks.
There’s nothing quite like being woken at 2am to change a nappy that smells like something concocted by a mad scientist with a penchant for experiments created out of dustbins and sick. Yum.
It’s been a week now. At first we thought it was the teeth. “It’s those bloody teeth again,” I told the (self-proclaimed) Northern Love Machine knowingly. Then, when a tooth failed to appear, I blamed the water in Rochdale. “It’s this water, it’s different from the Southern stuff she’s used to,” I pronounced, equally as knowingly. Continue reading
Well, here we are again.
After a brief respite from The Teeth, it looks like they’re back. And this time they’ve brought an army.
Not content to make our entire family miserable for at least two months, Mr and Mrs Tooth have got their friends in on the action. Four of them have already set up camp in Frog’s mouth. And now three of their mates have gate-crashed the party.
Like all good tenants, the four Teeth that are already here aren’t causing us too much bother. They clean up after themselves and haven’t caused much mess. But the same can’t be said of their friends.
No, their friends are anti-social little buggers. They cause runny nappies and dribble, moodiness and fully-fledged Teething Tantrums. It’s fair to say they’re the worst house guests you could imagine. So I’m issuing them with a Tooth ASBO.
Yes, you heard me right.
The terms are as follows:
- For the Teeth in question to refrain from causing any more pain.
- For the Teeth in question to appear out of the gums in a timely and calm manner.
- For the Teeth in question to just HURRY UP.
If the terms of this Tooth ASBO are breached, the punishment will be retirement in a little box at the bottom of the bin, rather than the plush surroundings of Tooth Fairy Castle.
When The Teeth are behaving themselves...
There is fashionably late and there is just plain rude. You are falling into the latter category.
I know, as the Tooth of my daughter, you will probably have diva tendencies. And I realise you want to keep the crowd waiting, to build a sense of anticipation and excitement.
But would you just hurry up?
I’m sick of the tears and the biting and the just-general-miserableness. I’m sick of waking every morning to see if you have arrived, only to be disappointed again. And most of all, my nipples are sick of the constant threat of extinction posed by a teething, angry baby. I like my nipples and require both of them.
I feel deeply let down that I have had to resort to writing this letter. But make no bones about it, if you continue in this selfish manner you will pay the consequences. Forget any ideas about a retirement at Tooth Fairy Castle. You will be consigned to a little box at the back of my knicker drawer, never to be seen again, along with the leopard print thong and suspenders.
I trust you will now show yourself and stop being such a nuisance.
Mother’s Always Right