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Alright, Teeth?


Alright, Teeth?

I can’t say I’m pleased to hear that you’re coming again. And I see you’re bringing all of your drama with you as per usual. I must say, we had quite enough of you last time you moved in. That wasn’t any fun, either.

You’re causing quite the kerfuffle in our house: tears, screams, exhaustion. Your arrival better be bloody amazing for all the commotion you’re creating. I hope you’ve packed a bloody brilliant gift to apologise. Dancing flamingos and champagne might do. But even then I won’t forget.

I have not enjoyed your journey one bit. None of us have. To be honest, you’ve completely pissed me off. You’ve been upsetting a lot of people, Teeth. Me, Ant, Livvy, George. Especially George, my lovely little boy. You’re really cruel to him and he’s not done anything to you. Nothing at all.

You’ve been so merciless, Teeth. Do you know, I think ruthless is probably the more accurate term; George isn’t even one yet, he’s just a tiny boy. Not even a boy; a baby. But you still cut him, make him ill, get his gorgeous, squidgy little bum all sore and make him cry. He’s so little and innocent and he doesn’t deserve this.

But you’re inflicting your misery on us all. I started back at work this week and I really needed to bring my A game on my first day; an analytical, quick thinking mind and a ready smile.

But no. You made my gorgeous little boy cry and cry all night, so I was barely conscious by the time I logged on. My manager must have thought I had been out on the tiles the night before. Or coming round from a heavy anaesthetic. More likely the latter seeing as my disco days drove away on the Vengabus back in two thousand and ages ago.

If I hadn’t met you before, I’d be thinking you were just a nasty old sod who likes ruining everything and upsetting people.

But that’s not true. I know you well enough now to realise you can bring good times, too.

So I’ve got quite the celebration organised for your arrival. I’m going to do a Welcome Home party if that’s OK with you? I’ll do some nice cocktail sausages with their skin on and some little finger sandwiches with a thick wedge of ham. I’m really pushing the boat out this time, so the party is going to last for as our guests can stay for: there will be sleep at night time and toothy smiles all day. It’ll be bloody brilliant!

But make sure you’re ready, Toothy Pegs! We’ll be putting you to work straight away. I’m a bit fed up of boiling veg until it dissolves and I’m sure George will love the chunky culinary masterpieces that you can work through, so you’d better bring your stamina.

Although we’re all tired, we are so excited about meeting you and I promise we’ll coo over you for weeks to come in baby George’s gummy little mouth! There are a couple of your mates living downstairs already, but there’s still lots of room for you to chomp about. We haven’t quite mastered the cleansing ritual yet, but I’m sure, in time, you’ll be enjoying a nice, minty bath in the comfort of your surroundings.

But for the moment, you’re doing my head in. So just bloody get on with it. George is tired, I’m tired. And Ant is more Grumpy Dad than ever.

We all just need a bit of sleep. PLEEEAASSSEEE.

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