Oh Teeth. When once I wrote this letter I thought that I had seen the worst of your arrivals. As it turns out I was blissfully naive. Sure, I had seen the sickness you bestow on poor, sweet, innocent babies as you fight your way to the surface. Yes, I had experienced the tears and sleepless nights that often accompany teething. Oh, you had showed your brutal attack of my baby's appetite and left your mark on my breast. But I had not seen the real brutal side you sometimes show in the beginning. At least you saved that for my boy. He at least is a brave warrior. However I am faint of heart and quickly sick of stomach at the sight of the battlefield you have drawn on my sons tender gums. Do you really feel the need to create dangling strips of skin? Must I really watch those fleshy pieces flap around, pushed back and forth by your tricky partner the tongue? And the blood...oh the blood. Does there really need to be blood as you brutally break the surface? I see you there, skillfully slipping in and out of view, can you not just make your arrival final and declare victory?
Don't get me wrong. I still appreciate the help we acquire when making our forays into solid food. Carrots would be lousy without your help to make them crunch. I acknowledge that life without you would be a sloppy, drooling drag and that our smiles are extremely incomplete without your presence.
But really....must you gore my sons gums and turn their surfaces to swollen, bloody mountains? Must you REALLY wage a war?