An unexpected visitor swung by the house last night: L’s third tooth.

My wife (who, again, is an osteology geek) says the new chomper technically is an incisor. To me, it doesn’t matter what the heck it’s called; the little thing is causing our little girl a ton of pain.

She’s cranky. She’s drooly. She’s also mouthing on just about anything she can find: my nose, her fingers, the frozen yogurt spoon, and more.

We’ve tried the trusted method of frozen teething rings, but there’s only so much of those L can stand. We’ve also given her (a conservative amount of) Tylenol. We’ve also improvised; instead of letting her food warm up to room temperature before we feed her, we’ve been giving her meals straight out of the fridge, so they’re still cold enough to provide relief.

While some of these methods have periodically, nothing has proven to be a miracle cure. It’s at times like this when I wonder how our little baby—or we, for that matter—are going to make it through a mouth full of new teeth.

I’m not sure who needs to believe in the Tooth Fairy more.