Avocado green

Little G crossed an important milestone last week. He cut his first tooth. It was the usual torturous affair. He drooled. He writhed. He shrieked. He slept poorly. He ate less. He grew clingy. He got a runny nose and he got a runny bottom. He got a fever. He got kicked out of daycare for having a fever. He got worn out from his own despair. He finally took a good nap. He woke up with a bottom tooth.

The point of that story is that my parents were here last week, so they had the joy of caring for G through his malaise. My mom fielded the fever day and let him wipe avocado-colored snot epaulets all over her shirts. My dad the doctor (of mathematics) wiped his avocado-colored poops and spoke, as only my dad would, in anatomical terms while diaper creaming the irritated lad: "Too much cream! I don't want to plug his anus!"

But don't you for a minute feel sorry for them. They're eager participatory grandparents, and they have a long history with avocado:

August 23, 1970
How 40 years ago looked.

You've come so far, but you can't escape the avocado.
Happy anniversary.