A few nights ago our oldest boy, two-and-a-half year-old Brayden, started crying in his bedroom. We typically don’t bother to check on him since this tactic has been used in the past to get us to visit him one last time with some innocuous request, but since he had been feeling sick lately, we decided to pause our television show and check on out little guy. Kim went up to check on him first and then requested my assistance. I wasn’t sure what was happening because the tone of her voice seemed unworried with a hint of snickering. When I stepped through the door, she turned to me and told me that our son had been chewing on one of his stuffed animals antlers, his blue moose, and it had gotten stuck between his lower teeth and he couldn’t get it out. I tugged for a little bit and found that it was indeed wedged in and stuck. Not wanting to pull one of his cute little teeth out before their prime, I wiggled and tugged on the soft antlers as my wife laughingly searched for some scissors to set both the moose and our son free from their new bond. I too, laughed as I fenced my son’s tongue with my fingers trying to see how it got wedged between his teeth and the best means of extraction. Just as Kim returned to the room, the medium amount of pressure I had been exerting on the antler gave way and the stuffed animal and my son were again free from dental bondage. I took the stuffed animal away to trim its antlers and my son cried out in anguish asking me not to take his moose away. I told him that I was just going to fix his antler and I would be right back. When I returned the moose to my son, he made an attempt to bite the antler and roll back into his bed. I told him that if he keeps biting the antlers it will get stuck again. He just looked at me and said, “Nie-night” giving me my cue that he was done with me and I could leave him alone to go back to sleep.
A bit of early October 2017
1 week ago