Anything you can do I can do better...

... sings The Punky to her unknowing best friend/mortal enemy, Baby V. Recently I read over at Shaken Mama's that Baby V was teething, and I thought to myself, "Huh. Strange that Punky hasn't started that, considering she's something like two weeks older than V." She wasn't even showing signs of it. She wasn't pissy. She wasn't crying. I couldn't feel any teeth coming through. She wasn't snotty. I was resigned, and perfectly fine with thinking, perhaps by some genetic oddity, my kid wasn't going to get teeth.

I was wrong.


This morning, A got her out of bed when she started her usual morning chorus of coo's and clicks, and after a few minutes, comes into the bedroom looking like he'd just seen a ghost.

"Feel her gums. Her bottom gums," he said. That was all I needed to hear but lo and behold, upon investigation, there they were: two teeth. Not just simmering under the surface but poking through in all their teethy glory. Punky is now the proud owner of two central incisors on the bottom row.

Punky doesn't seem to be bothered by any of this. In fact, she's dealing with her problems just like I deal with problems in life. She's sleeping. Now if I catch her passed out with an empty bottle of wine, I'll definitely know it's my daughter.

I don't have a problem.