A Teething Rhyme

My husband cracks me up. Like hilarious, full-body-convulsions-filled-with-laughter, cracks. me. up.

Yesterday evening we were hanging out in the living room before dinner, giggling at Nick who couldn't decide if he wanted to scream in delight at being in his bouncer, or scream in agony from the vicious top teeth that are seriously crowding our space right now.

So I said to Todd "should I go get the baby orajel?" Because we all know I can't make decisions on my own, and prefer to have Todd tell me the answer. And knowing full well that I wanted him to say "yes, go get it", he nodded profusely and said "absolutely".

I came back downstairs with the tiny tube of cherry flavored goo and sat down on the floor in front of Nick.

As I started to apply it to Nick's gums, I started to tell Todd about my visit with one of my sweet sorority sisters this past weekend. I had told her about Nick's teething and how much pain he was in. As a seasoned veteran mom -- two kids under two (17 months apart -- she deserves some kind of medal!) -- she told me "you know, a little rum really does work great".

So I was sharing this with Todd, and inadvertently said "My sorority sister said rum works. She said she just dipped her thumb, into a little rum, and rubbed it on her daughters gums..."

And before I could finish my story with "and she said it worked wonders" Todd, doubled over with laughter, interrupted and said "is this some kind of bizarre poem?!...Thumb, Rum, Gums...really?!" We both cracked up.

Man! I'm a poet and didn't even know it!