Fangs

Lyla is a snarling, raging, demon-woman version of her former self. Last night I was up three times with her. When these teeth of hers finally sprout, I half expect them to be three inches long and razor sharp.

I just put in a call to Lyla's doctor because all the baby pain medicines say to ask the doctor about dosage. Nobody wants to get sued, you see. I did squirt some acetaminophen (spelled right on the sixth try, in case you were wondering) into her mouth, but I don't know if it's doing any good. A nurse is calling me back. Supposedly.

We think she's also entered her separation anxiety phase, or perhaps the onset of vampire fangs is causing the separation anxiety. The lost sleep at night catches up with her during the day, but when I put her down for a nap, she freaks out. It's like she's two months old again. She's sleeping now, mainly because I was a heartless bastard and let her cry for nine minutes until she stopped.

I'll make it up to her in a couple weeks by letting her sink her fangs into my neck.