The tooth, the whole tooth and nothing but the tooth.

Sam's been drooling up a storm lately and I'll admit, he's been a little crotchety. But we're talking about a kid who is rather...intense...by nature, so crotchety seemed kind of normal to me.  When Jeff suggested that Sam might be teething, I scornfully told him that he knew NOTHING ABOUT BABIES.  Babies don't get teeth at just barely four months old!  Don't be ridiculous!  Go back downstairs and build a circuit or something.  Just you leave this baby stuff to me.

Ahem.

This morning as my son howled in my arms, mouth wiiiiide open, I noticed he had a bit of something stuck to his lower jaw and attempted to wipe it away.  But that thing?  Was hard and SHARP.  In fact (cough) it was a tooth, newly erupted from my son's tender flesh.  Hence the screaming.  And the drool. 

I was too excited to care that I'd been wrong and woke Jeff up right away to let him know of his vindication.  He high-fived me, and Sam, totally confused at our happiness in the face of his meltdown, stopped crying and stared about in teary confusion.  We gave him some Tylenol and praised him for being such a clever lad.  He tried a tentative "Goo?" from behind his pacie.  He had no idea what he'd done but he drifted off contentedly in a Tylenol haze, his little mouth finally comforted.

My baby grew a tooth!  I couldn't be prouder!

trying to get just one good shot of the tooth:









Finally!  You can just barely see it on the bottome right.  (His right.)