We knew David was teething because every few nights he'd be up for three hours. He wouldn't scream the whole time; he just wouldn't go back to sleep. Then the doctor said, "Yup. Two up, two down." The poor kid is chewing the ears off his bear. We've got him rotating through Tylenol and motrin, but either one takes an hour to kick in. Yesterday, I could have set my watch to it—suddenly, an hour post drugs, David was happily digging up the neighbor's garden. John did the whole shift last night, exactly an hour from dose to sleep.

He has six teeth. He's getting four more. That leaves ten to go. Ouch.