We went to a birthday party today, for Marc's cousin's daughter. It was one of those ginormous party blow up places, where the kids bounce around like lunatics for an hour and a half, and then all sit quietly and eat pizza and cupcakes. So I was sitting across from the table with Julianna on my lap, watching all four of my cherubs eat. They passed out the cake and got ready to sing, and I could see Sam's face growing more and more panicked. I called over to Marc and told him to go get Sam - who, at this point, had clapped his hands over his ears and was closing his eyes in preparation for the onslaught. Of his friends and family singing happy birthday. What's up with that? He hates that song. Always has, probably always will...
I haven't posted in a while - and it coincides with Julianna getting three teeth in. One is all the way in, one is mostly, and the other one is poking it's way in and my angel baby girl is so unbelievably miserable. In fact, she's starting to cry again now... teething is the absolute worst. She doesn't sleep any more, barely smiles - I feel awful for her. One tooth at a time - I think that should be the law. She's cutting all three at once, but staggered out to maximize the amount of time that she's in agony.
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