Poor L.A couple of weeks ago she took a tumble in the bathroom and bashed her mouth on something. (Don't remember what.) It was a hard bang, but she seemed none the worse for it. Then a couple of days ago she mentioned to Stacy, "My tooth doesn't hurt anymore." Stace was a little freaked because she didn't realize it had been bothering her up till then. And over the course of the last few days, the tooth has slowly started to discolor. As I write, she's at the pediatric dentist to see what to do about it. Stacy is fending off visions of horribly mutilated smiles and a daughter that no one will bear to look at again. I'm just fending off visions of a horribly mutilated wallet.
In other medical news, N just got back from this morning's wellness check at the doctor's. 95%ile for height. (Yeah! Stacy's genes!) His head size is off the charts. (Hmmm... that would be from me. Hard to hold so many brains.) Other than a suspected peanut allergy, everything looks good.
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