Ode to an Erupting Tooth

Dane and I spent about an hour yesterday evening discussing interesting blog posts that we both have in progress. We're thinking and writing about living in Appalachia, sustainable lifestyles, ethical considerations about our choice of jobs, moral ambiguities of international terrorism, the socialist movement at the turn of the last century, both world wars, peak oil, how all of this affects our thinking about parenthood, yada, yada, yada. Our whole conversation was very psuedo-intellectual and entertaining. We had an excellent time. There was much laughing, flirting, and suggesting of books. Sadly, we should have been sleeping instead of flapping our jaws. Duncan got up soon after we went to bed, and sometime around 3 or 4 in the morning I went back to bed and had yet another dream about an inflatable Santa Claus -- this time with Smurfs! So, instead of any well considered thoughts about history, current events, the simple pleasures of living in the country, or the neurological impact of chronic sleep deprivation, I offer you this poem:

Ode to an Erupting Tooth

Tiny teeth, I hate you so!
In tender gums you grow and grow.
I want to sleep;
Instead I creep
Around the house while babies weep!
How to end this song of woe?
I'm so tired I do not know.

I've read that we get to start sleeping again after the twins turn two. Fingers crossed.