I’m making it official. As of last night’s bathtime, Miss Elma has teeth. I can see a tiny sliver of white in her mouth in that brief moment between laughing smiles and her thumb being firmly replaced in her mouth, and more than that, my finger can feel a little raised bump of something ever so slightly sharper than her pink little gums.
At a minimum, she’s got her lower left front tooth, and I’m pretty sure I can see and feel the telltale corner of her lower right making an appearance as well.
All of which rather explains why my poor baby has had rather a clingy snuffly sort of day. All she’s really wanted to do was sit in my arms and snuggle in or have a little milk to cool down her radiator red cheeks. So that’s what we’ve done; curling up with Kitty on one side and Elma on my lap to watch Sofia, long snoozy nurses in the rocker in her room, and a snuggled up walk around the park for a little fresh air.
Kitty got her first tooth a lot earlier and from then on they gradually made an appearance in orderly rank and file, and almost always one at a time; I have a funny feeling that Elma is going to be making up for lost time, although I hope for her sake that three months worth of teeth don’t suddenly decide to arrived within a week.
And with that milestone comes the clanging realisation of just how much my littlest girl is growing up. I think the lateness of her teeth had sort of paused her age in my subconscious. It’s the logic that goes: Kitty got teeth at 8 months. Elma has no teeth. Therefore Elma is not more than 8 months. Quality logic I know, it runs alongside this one: Kitty had a sleep regression at 4 months. Elma has not yet had a sleep regression. Therefore Elma is not more than 4 months.
Dubious I know but there is a thread of truth in it. A mouthful of teeth will change her expressions, and certainly change those gorgeous kisses, and I remember from Kitty how it sparks that transition from tiny babyhood to mobile little girl.
In a few days time she will be 11 months and counting down to her first birthday. She’s a speedy crawler, an avid climber over obstacles (mostly my legs but also including the laundry pile artfully strewn in her way by her father in lieu of a stairgate on Kitty’s bedroom door – he turned around to see only two tiny feet as she wiggled her way down the far side), full of kisses and smiles for everyone, and currently very keen on pointing.
And as she seems to be a devoted carnivore, consistently picking meat over everything else on her plate if it’s there (like father, like daughter), I think she’s going to enjoy having teeth; just as soon as they finish growing.