me and my shadow

Jeez, this teething malarkey isn’t much fun I can tell you. When the Tooth (I decided it warrants a capital T, like Tsunami) appeared last week I secretly smirked to myself because although Bubs had been kind of grumpy and not himself, it wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought it would have been. Turns out, the universe saw my smug smirk and decided to unleash hell as payback. Therefore this week we have had more crying, whining, insomnia and general shittiness than I care to mention and I am well and truly knackered. Mind you, there are some funny side effects as well – anything that comes within six inches of the Tooth is likely to get chewed on, and that includes everything from my face to the table of his highchair. He’s like a guided missile; identify target…open tiny mouth wide and….CHOMP! Funny to watch, even if not to read about. I don’t know if it’s tooth related or just a coincidence but Bubs is also developing what can only be described as severe separation anxiety – it’s gone past the point where he cries when I leave the room, and escalated to a point where he now cries if I leave his line of vision. Like, even if I’m behind him, two feet away. Which as you can imagine makes life pretty difficult and is causing me to question where one should draw the line in terms of privacy. I mean, it could be argued that it’s cruel to leave him crying in the living room while I go to the loo. But the alternative, well, let’s just say there is something slightly disturbing about singing ‘Pat a cake, pat a cake’ while he watches me having a poo. Got a mental image? Thought so.