A Letter to Ari's Toothfairy

Dear Toothfairy,

My baby is chewing on my shoes, gnawing on my arms, and chomping on his own tongue.  My baby is slobbering like it's his job.  The amount of saliva pouring from his lips could fill a bathtub.  "Drool" doesn't describe it.  "Gush" is more like it.  My baby's nose is running.  And running.  And running.  (And his little tongue is lapping it up.  Gross.)  And most upsetting, my baby's gums hurt!  He is moaning in his sleep and waking up crying.  (Shrieking.)  And the Tylenol takes time to kick-in.

Teething is terrible.

So, Toothfairy, here's what I'm thinking.  It's cool that you visit after a kiddo loses a tooth, but I could use some assistance now.  Word on the street is that teething lasts for two years.  That's 730 nights.  How about we make a deal?  You can come hang out in Ari's room in the middle of the night and soothe him back to sleep when he wakes sobbing, and I will make dinner, do the laundry, and promise not to talk while you watch the Bruins game take care of the under-the-pillow gift-giving when Ari's baby teeth fall out. 

Whaddya say Matt Toothfairy?

(Yeah, so there is one cute thing that comes with all this shit spit.  Ari has learned to blow raspberries.  Check him out!)

Sorry baby, hang in there.  Teething is just a phase.  Only 729 days to go.