firing on all syllables

Dear Universe,

I’d like to begin by issuing you with an apology. 

Whatever I’ve done to raise your hackles, I’M SORRY. 

I’m not sure what my offense was, but given this last month, it must have been a doozy.

Was it because I threw that expired yoghurt out without recycling the container? Is it because I buy too many plastic toys for my son? Or too many wooden ones?

Come on! Help me out here!

I first suspected I had annoyed you when you gave my son (yet another) flu. And this was a bad one. Lots of crying, clinginess, and throaty coughing that alarmed bystanders.

However, it was your decision to send through ALL HIS REMAINING TEETH AT ONCE that was truly inspiring.

You see, up until 3 weeks ago Mr Squish had a mere 8 teeth. Now after bouts of fever, sleeplessness, diarrhea, and reduced hunger (and that’s saying something), he has a mouthful of the little choppers.

I can’t believe you sent them all. At once. Whilst he had a flu. 

You, sir/madam, are an evil genius.

Anyway, as a result of the sudden and extensive mouth relandscaping, some of Mr Squish’s gum tried to make its escape. I don’t blame it as I was feeling much the same way.

I freaked when I noticed some black skin coming away from his gum  (sorry, that sentence should have come with a warning). 

That, Universe, was a special touch. So was the dentist who incorrectly guessed it was a tooth infection and had us in a panic until a second dentist diagnosed a simple gum blister and harmless dead skin. 

So we drew a relieved breath of air for a second.

That is until I took Mr Squish for his regular health check up. Aside from the normal anxiety about his weight, the nurse reignited my worry about his suspected lazy eye.

When my son was 1-year-old, I took him to an optometrist because his eyes looked slightly wonky in photos (not in real life, bizarrely). The doctor assured me it would resolve itself and said to return at 18 months if I was still worried.

So back I marched with my fluey, teething and miserable son in tow.

This time we were swiftly referred to a specialist pediatric optometrist (“best to act now”). As part of his eye test, Mr Squish had to have stinging eye drops administered that would reduce his vision FOR 24 HOURS. 

Yay! That is precisely what Mr Squish needed.

It turns out his vision and eyes are fine. Just a visual illusion that will go away. But thanks for the stress, Universe. THANK YOU. If I wasn’t lying awake holding a crying toddler, I was lying awake worrying.

Then at the end of all this drama… drum roll, please…. 

I got food poisoning!

TA DA!

So well played, Universe. WELL PLAYED. 

Rest assured, you sadistic bastard, after this month I have heard your message loud and clear.

From now on, I promise to recycle properly, hug a tree every day, and to make all Mr Squish’s toys from debris I find on the side of the road.

Your servant,
Ms FOAS