It’s a good thing we don’t own a bell tower

So much crying at dinner. It was tragic. Unbelievably, it wasn’t coming from the girl. Usually if there is hysteria and tears you can be assured the girl is in the center of it.

This time is was the boy. There didn’t seem to be an reason for his misery, either. No one was teasing him or yelling at him or even giving him a hard time about anything. Nevertheless, he just sat there, tears welled up in his eyes and poked at his dinner. He took a bite of a soft, fresh croissant and started to cry in earnest.

His father and I looked at each other quizzically, but neither of us had an answer.

“Dude, what’s wrong?” I asked as gently as possible. I didn’t want to push him any further over the edge.

He mumbled something, but I couldn’t understand what he was saying with the napkin shoved in his mouth. He withdrew the napkin and there were several dots of blood on the napkin. Apparently, he had another loose tooth. That boy is missing so many teeth at this point, I feel like serving corn on the cob just for the amusement value.

I tried to help him out with dinner, advised him how to eat without hurting the latest wobbly tooth. Nothing helped. He kept crawling in my lap and crying miserably. I didn’t think it was just the tooth. He finally just took himself away from the table in watery misery.

“What’s his deal?” I asked My Honey who’d been with him several hours longer this afternoon than I had been.

“I don’t know. He’s been like that all afternoon.”

“My God, he’s been an emotional wreck lately.” I observed completely unnecessarily.

“At this point,” his father admitted, “I’m just hoping he doesn’t climb up on the roof with his Nerf rifle.”