"Toot"

I had plans for "T", I truly did. Perhaps they were slower to come to me than some of the other letters in this month's A to Z Challenge, but, alas, sweet relief, the words did start to flow from my fingertips.

And then, just about thirty minutes ago, our older son threw me a curve ball.

He had just arrived home from an outing with his father and brother (thank you, kind husband, for the reprieve), when in the door he bound straight toward me with a purpose.

"Toot," he said, bringing my fingers to his mouth.

I'm the Uh-Oh Person in this house. I'm also the Ouch Person, the I-Can't-Find-It Person, the He-Did-This Person and, of course, the I'm-Hungry Person. But, I think that's all another post, isn't it? Okay. Focusing.

With my fingers shoved into his mouth, a place I'm still not sure is safe, I decided it was logical to check the status of his emerging molar. It likely hurt.

"Uh-oh," I said to him, "does it hurt?"

"Toot ouch," he said as he began to wander aimlessly around the kitchen. I had been working on his cocktail of medication for bedtime. He searched the bag of medications. What was he doing?

"What do you want, buddy?" I asked.

No answer. He opened the drawer where I keep first aid supplies. I didn't think he even noticed that drawer. My husband asked if he wanted a bandage. Whatever.

Then he walked over to the cabinet of out -of-reach medication. You mean he knows about that cabinet also? Really? He beckoned for me to pull out each bin as he inspected boxes of cold medicines. Nope. Whatever he wanted wasn't there.

"Toot. Rice. Ouch," he said looking at me.

Rice....rice...where the heck does rice come into play?

"Hon, did he eat rice in the car?" I asked my husband, trying to make sense of it all.

"I don't know. Maybe he found some old rice on the floor," he answered. And, by the way, my dear husband said that to me so casually. He said that like it was normal, in a eating-from-the-floor-of-a-fraternity-house kind-of-way. But, I'm digressing again, aren't I? Okay. Re-focusing.

And, so, with the disgusting reality that our son had found a hardened piece of old rice on the dirty floor of our dirty van and put it in his mouth, it became clear that said rice was lodged in his tooth. Ugh.

Have you ever tried to get something out from between a sensory sensitive individual's teeth?

I flashed back to the days of having to pin him to the ground in order to get anything--a brush or a soon-to-be bitten finger--into his mouth. I could hear the screaming as he groped and crawled his way into a fetal position in the corner on the floor of the dentist's office, all the while the dentist was calming chanting, "You are okay. You are okay."

But that was not to come to pass today. Our big guy was searching the kitchen for a "toot peck". And, when my husband found one, down he sat, pulling me to his side for help. He needed me some, but he also worked independently. When he did so, I sat back and breathed it in--how casual and effortless he wore his progress! The simple action of using that toothpick was a giant step forward after years of seemingly no steps at all.

Keep the faith, fellow parents. Progress does happen.

"Toot." It's quite clear that no other t-word is going to hold a candle to that one in our house today. Perhaps I'll save the other ideas for some future rainy day here in the Mom Cave.


This entry was in response to the letter prompt "T" in the Blogging A to Z April 2012.