It’s happened. Busby has started teething. And it really doesn’t look fun! My crafting-desk-come-changing-table has turned into a pharmacy: teething gel, Calpol, Calprofen… She’s going through more changes of clothes a day than Lady Gaga (due to drooling, not her diva-ish nature), and yes folks, even with bibs! I’ve had a look in her mouth and can see her two top front teeth trying to make their way through, so hopefully it won’t take too long. In the meantime she continues to shun the teething butterfly with cooling wings (LOVE) for my hand, which she likes to rub against and bite down on to help the pain. She also has a touch of “clingy-monkey-itis” and has screamed every time I’ve put her down… and she’s playing up terribly for Daddy!
|Busby this morning with her sad eyes|
My poor chubby Busby! I know it’s not a magic moment for her (more a horribly painful moment, or rather, number of days), but for us it signifies another change, another development in her life; with every day she’s outside of my belly, she takes one step further away from being the squished-up bundle of newborn she was almost 16 weeks ago.