Easily the funniest scenes in that cute romantic comedy, “My Big Fat Greek Wedding,” are when the boisterous father, Gus Partokalus, keeps spraying Windex on everything as a cure-all. Got a bad bruise? Windex will help. Infection? Try some Windex. Bleeding? Windex will stop it. It’s hysterical.
Right now I sort of think of teething as my own personal Windex. Ben is a serious cranky pants these days. He’s 9 months and he’s got teeth coming in on top and bottom. But he’s also just going through other stuff. A cold. Minor surgery coming that’s got his parents stressed. A sister who screams every word out of her mouth. The problem is it’s impossible to know what to attribute his latest crying episode to.
My answer: It’s teething. Always. For everything. Wakes up at 3 a.m. screaming? Teething. Won’t eat? Teething. Crying for no reason at all, middle of the day? Teething.
None of it, in fact, may be teething. Who knows? But it’s an easy answer and I’m stickin’ to it. The only question is: How long can I keep using it? When he turns like 16, and refuses to even speak to me because I won’t let him borrow the the car to drive around the block and storms away to his bedroom, can I still blame teething?