Exercise Your Chompers, Really Chew Chew Chew!

(My Google fu has the flu (ha!), so I sadly have no linkage to the title of this post. It is a reference to one of those Saturday morning educational mini-cartoons about a Fonze-ish dude, named Chompers, who advocated eating loads of crunchy, good-for-you foods. If you find lyrics or pictures relating to this classic bit of '80's nostalgia, drop me a line.)

This past weekend was ALL about the teeth chez moi. How so, you ask? Well, my remaining two wisdom teeth were given the heave ho. My dental surgeon put me under, which was freakin' AWESOME. I forgot how cool it is to drift into oblivion. I'm not advocating nodding out or any of that illegal silliness. It's just fun once in a while to give yourself over to something like that. Some folks aren't put under for the procedure. Apparently, though, my roots were as swirly as a gift bow, so they thought they'd save me the horror of experiencing a portly fella digging elbows deep into my mandible. I applaud their thought process.

Coincidentally, the Girl sprouted her first incisor the very day of my extraction. It's the lower left one, and she really works it with her tongue. You can tell she's weirded out by the sensation. But, the confusion lurks on her visage for all of three seconds before she's moved onto something else, like extirpating the pots and pans from their cubby under the microwave.

Last, but most certainly, most assuredly not least, is that we have FINALLY broken the Boy of his pacifier addiction. Our ploy was to use the birth of my most recent nephew (the tenth grandchild in my clan overall) to meet our own ends. We told the Boy that babies need pacifiers, and his new cousin was a have not in this particular arena, and since the Boy is in fact a Big Boy these days, p'raps it was time to pass the pacifier on to his new cousin. So, when these two little men met for the first time on Sunday last, and hence, t'was time for the handoff. And the Boy did it, without so much as a blink.

Wha-huh?

I expected tears, and fists, and rending of garments. This pacifier is the one thing, the one lovey, that my Boy has cleaved unto since his days in the cradle. It started to affect the way his teeth are positioned, so divesting him of it was long overdue. But still, I expected much more drama. I was pretty sure he didn't grasp the enormity of the situation.

And, like all good Mommies, I was right on the money.

Later that night he asked for the pacifier. And upon being informed that he wouldn't be on the receiving end of his addiction, well, that's when he unleashed a monsoon of tears. Know what, though? Fifteen minutes later, he was okay with it. There were more grumpies tonight, of course, but only about ten minutes worth. I figure in a week, we'll have kicked the pacifier addiction.