Lethal Combination

Some things just don't belong together.  Oil and water.  Square pegs and round holes.  Tom and Katie.  New teeth and new walkers.

I'm not sure what in our evolutionary history would've selected for teeth to sprout at approximately the same time as walking begins.  It seems like something akin to running with scissors, only the scissors are actually implanted in your mouth.  When you're face-planting every tenth step, teeth are a real occupational hazard.  Not to mention the danger to the poor teeth themselves.  I now look at 3- and 4-year-old children with a sense of absolute amazement that they have a fully intact set of choppers.  

Thanks to the single snaggletooth protruding from his top gums, Owen has had three fat lips in three days.  During the last fall, Aaron and I actually came to terms with the fact that Owen might've knocked out his one and only pearly white, before the blood cleared and we could verify that the tooth was, in fact, still there.  

Maybe new teeth aren't only there to wreak senseless havoc on new walkers; maybe like spurs on a horse, they're meant to serve as a moderately painful incentive to start moving the right way.  Whatever the case, I'll put one in the win column if we can make it to preschool with an intact mouthful of teeth.

(Side note:  if you're thinking, "Hmm, it's weird that Owen only has one tooth at nearly ten months," you would be right.  The average age for tooth-growing is 4-8 months, and his first clocked in at 9.5 months.  He actually took his first steps before he had a single tooth in that little mouth.)

Transitioning from "has walked" to "is walking"

The latest iteration of Owen's dance moves

(Warning: do not watch more than once.  This song will haunt your dreams.)