We had a family visit to the dentist last Wednesday which went smoothly, mainly because Sharon and I were both present and so could take turns at crowd control in the waiting room rather than keeping the boys (Rowan and Finn principally) from trying to open drawers and cupboards in the surgery itself. Rowan was funny lying in the chair and opening his mouth apprehensively but he got the all clear as did the other two lads although Finn's thumb-sucking did draw attention. Sean's at an age too where he should be stopping.
Sean's adult teeth are ready to descend, said the dentist and Sean is delighted that he finally has two wobbly teeth, being one of three in his class who is yet to lose a tooth. Finn did his best to follow him last night, chipping one of his front teeth on the sink upstairs as he stepped up to turn on the tap. A sore one, but Finn is the most resilient of the three. His temper has returned though. This may be due to the testosterone of a recent growth spurt: he definitely looks a bit meaner and leaner and Sharon often gets asked if he and Sean are twins. I wouldn't put them that close (Sean remains 9-10cm taller) but Sean is never happy when I tell him Finn will end up taller when they're both grown up.
Sharon flew over to Shannon with Sean and Finn this weekend to be picked up by Marie and Michael and transported to Tralee to see Edel and Alan (and Olivia). Finn didn't fly well on either flight: the outward leg was plagued by a hen party blowing whistles and the return leg was rather bumpy on the descent. I had Rowan to myself which was novel. We had a fairly quiet time (as quiet as you get when the garrulous Rowan is in full flow) but, despite the blustery sleet showers, we managed out to the supermarket, Buckstone Park and the museum where he had a great run about. He went to Wendy's for a while while Ian Paterson and I watched the St. Mirren v Celtic cup quarter-final on TV. Amazingly, the Buddies pulled off their first victory over the Bhoys in 19 years! 1-0! I phoned my Uncle James to make sure he'd seen it, espacially after last week's 7-0 trouncing at Parkhead!
Rowan now has his own "big boy bed," one of the adjustable beds from IKEA that we took from someone who was finished with it. I've set it up in the spare bedroom for now, for Rowan to have his naps in. He settled in fine over the weekend. Once he gets used to it and we figure out how we're going to rearrange the rooms and beds in advance of No.4, we'll move him from his cot.