Molars

Night before last, Clara had a tofu dog with melted cheese, a pile of corn and peas, a couple bites of yogurt and pineapple chunks for dinner.

“Do you think she had enough?” Simon asked as we were trying to diaper her.

“When I offered her more yogurt, she refused,” I said.

The next morning, at about 5:15 a.m., I heard her making her disgruntled morning sounds.  I picked up her warm body from her crib.  Her hair was fuzzy with sleep, her eyelashes still halfway tangled together.

I took her downstairs and poured a bowlful of cereal for her and I to share, a fresh diaper under my arm.  Because it had been warm the night before, she was wearing only a diaper and a T-shirt that said, “Sunny Days Ahead.”

I laid out her fresh diaper, and she saw the pictures of Winnie the Pooh and Piglet on it.

“Poop! Poop!” she said excitedly.  She ran to the top of the stairs leading to the basement. “Poop!  Poop!”  She pointed down the stairs.

We went down to the playroom.  Clara had watched Winnie the Pooh with Simon three times the day before--once in Spanish--but she wanted to watch it again now, at 5:19 a.m.  I put it on and was rather disappointed that I couldn't actually see it.  I'd left my glasses upstairs on my nightstand and didn't want to interrupt Simon's sleep again to get them.

We watched the entire hour-long movie before I felt like she was sleepy enough to go back to bed.

The plan for the next night--last night-- was obvious to both Simon and me: keep her up an hour later, until nine or so.  And feed her as much as she would eat before bed.

After she'd had dinner and played awhile, we brought a box of Cheerios up to her room and listened to nighttime songs while she snacked. We dressed her in heavier footie pajamas with panda bears on them, in case it had been the cold that had woken her so early that morning. She plunged her entire dimpled fist into the box and stuffed whole handfuls of Cheerios into her mouth at a time.

"Chew and swallow what's in your mouth first before you get another handful," I advised.

"Every Cheerio is two and a half minutes more of sleep tomorrow morning," Simon postulated.  He had not been able to go back to sleep the morning before and had been stumbling around in a fog all day.

She went to sleep at 9:30 pm.  But at 5:35 this morning I heard her moaning in the next room.  I went to get her and brought her downstairs for more Winnie the Pooh.  When I laid her down to change her diaper, I had a thought...and finagled her jaw open to look inside.  She had two points of a new molar on her lower right jaw, and a big, red bulge on her upper left.