Two of the little nasties (eyeteeth) have errupted, although just the points. The worst is yet to come. Number Three is well on its way and Hayden was doing his darnedest to work out Number Four. Overall, I'd say he's done okay. He kindly spreads the misery out over the whole day and doesn't clump it together in one painful chunk. So I only want to commit suicide several times a day, but by the time evening rolls around, who's got the energy? (Joke, of course!) Once or twice, I've had to retrieve him from bed a few hours after he's been put down, administer pain relief and offer a small bottle of milk. Hubby thinks it'll start a habit, but I've pointed out to him that if I can't indulge my "last ever child", then who can I? I'll head off any trends at the pass if I see them appearing.
And if there is something I am slowly learning, it's don't take anything for granted. So kisses and hugs and treats in the morning - these dog days of child-rearing will all too soon be over and I'll be lamenting loudly. I think a little indulgence once in awhile is JUST FINE.