In Search of What Was Lost

Chapter 4: Teething, Babysitting, and Popsicles

Tim's morning had started deceptively calm. Steel had slept through most of the night, which was a rare treat in itself, and Tim had dared to think he might actually have a smooth day. But he should have known better—parenthood rarely allowed for calm.

Tim's day began before dawn with the familiar sound of crying from the nursery. Steel was in full teething mode, his whimpers escalating with each passing second. Tim, barely awake, pulled himself out of bed, rubbing his eyes as he shuffled toward the crib. He picked up Steel, who immediately latched onto Tim's shoulder, gnawing on his shirt. "Alright, buddy, I know, those teeth are no joke," he murmured, reaching for a fresh teething ring from the freezer.

After a quick diaper change, Tim managed to get both of them dressed, fed Steel, and offered him the cold teething ring. Thankfully, it seemed to do the trick for now. Before long, the soothing lull of the quiet morning—and likely the exhaustion—overtook them both, and Tim nodded off on the couch with Steel curled up on his chest. They slept from 9 to 11, a small victory in the battle of parenthood.

But around 11, Tim was jolted awake by Steel's sharp, insistent wails. "We're up, we're up," he mumbled, struggling to sit up with Steel still clinging to his shirt. He reached for another frozen teething ring, but Steel only glared, swatting it away. Tim tried to stay calm, moving to the next tool in his arsenal—the baby-safe teething gel. A few dabs, and, thankfully, the crying started to subside as Steel finally relaxed against him.

With a bit of calm restored, Tim gave Steel a bottle and took the opportunity to grab his own much-needed coffee. It was nearly noon now, and he thought he might actually get a little work done, maybe answer some emails.

Of course, the peace didn't last long. Around 12, as Tim sat at his desk, Steel squirmed in his lap, tugging on his ear with a renewed restlessness. Tim ran a hand through his hair, already disheveled from the morning, and sighed. "Here we go again, huh?"

He carried Steel to the kitchen, rocking him as he opened the freezer. There, nestled between an old container of ice cream and frozen peas, was another teething ring. "Here we go, buddy," Tim whispered, hoping this one would hold Steel's attention.

Steel gnawed on it for about a minute before flinging it to the floor, his face scrunched in frustration. "Alright, plan... D? E?" Tim muttered, bouncing Steel on his hip as he went through the checklist in his mind—teething gel, toys, back rubs—but nothing was helping. As Steel's fussiness escalated, Tim's eyes landed on the formula container on the counter, and his stomach dropped. They were down to enough for just one bottle. He was going to have to brave a store run.

With a sigh, he set about gathering everything he'd need. He strapped Steel into his baby carrier, packed the diaper bag with wipes, extra clothes, and an extra bottle (just in case), and looked around for his wallet and keys. By the time he was ready to leave, Tim felt like he'd run a marathon. Just a quick trip , he told himself as he zipped up Steel's one-piece winter suit. How hard could it be?

Halfway through wrangling all these items, Steel started gnawing on his finger, tiny teeth pressing down hard, and Tim winced. "Easy there, little piranah," he whispered, even as his mind scrambled to remember where he'd put his keys.

And that's when Jason walked in, taking in the scene of Tim, the mountain of baby supplies, and a very cranky, drooling Steel. With a raised eyebrow, he asked, "Going somewhere?"

as Tim attempts to strap the squirmy baby into the carrier while still collecting his forgotten essentials.

Tim shoots him a look that could cut glass. "I wish it were that simple. Steel's teething, and I've got maybe five minutes before he decides I'm Public Enemy Number One for taking too long. Getting him through checkout without a meltdown is like... defusing a bomb with one hand tied behind my back."