As your kids get older, the rites of passage become more and more spread out. On Wednesday, Tyler completed his final rite as a teen (I think). He got his wisdom teeth surgically (and I'm sure, forcefully) removed.
The last time Tyler went under anesthesia he was about nine months old. He had to have his tear ducts drilled. Show of hands . . . anyone? Did you know that was even possible? I was a basket case when they took him away behind those cold, metal doors. This time, I barely looked up from the "Entertainment Weekly" magazine I was reading. "What? Ok, yeah. See ya later." In less than an hour I was called back to see my wounded baby. All I can say is that he was NOT wearing a cute little Children's Mercy Hospital t-shirt. Here was this big ole' guy barely hanging on to a recliner, head thrown back with a slack jaw. I rubbed his hair and his eyes rolled around and finally attempted to focus on me. For about a split second. Then he was gone again. The nurse came in and asked me if I thought he'd want the teeth, the ones formerly housed in his mouth. Tyler halfway sat up, eyes WIDE open and he said, "YETH!" Then he was out again. It was pretty funny. At least I thought it was funny. The nurse was acting rather bored by the whole thing, but I guess she's seen worse (or funnier).
I finally got Tyler home - after telling him eight times that we were NOT going to stop at Ahni (Sonic) because he could not have carbonated drinks. Each time he screwed up his face (which was also funny because he couldn't really move his muscles) like he was going to cry and said, "Wha?" (Why?) I about had a million wrecks because I couldn't understand him at all, but could kind of make out what he was saying if I looked at him while he was talking, which is really not advisable when you're driving on the highway at a high rate of speed (unless you're Ron Martin and then it's practically a requirement - driving at high speeds while not looking at the road, I mean).
Ron and I had to nearly hogtie Tyler to make him stay home. Tyler kept giving us the old "It's my last week at home. I have SO MUCH to do." I told him it wasn't my fault that he grew four wisdom teeth and had to have them surgically removed. I told him I only had TWO wisdom teeth. He looked at me like, "Well, that explains A LOT."
Maybe it's a good thing it's his last week at home.
2 comments:
oh my gosh. goes right along with him calling kate right after surgery and babbling into the phone.
i have to do the same thing when wyatt talks. if i can look at his mouth, or his hands, then 9 times out of 10 i can tell what he's talking about. this should send you on another trip down memory lane. do they really grow up this fast?!
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