This week’s household drama featured my daughter getting her wisdom teeth out and somehow still being more productive than most fully functional adults.
She was an absolute trooper.
You know that stage after wisdom teeth removal where your face swells up and suddenly you look like you’ve been storing winter supplies in your cheeks? That was her. Full chipmunk mode. Puffy, sore, exhausted, and still trying to keep up with schoolwork like this was just a minor inconvenience instead of a full facial event.
I, of course, was in full mom mode. Hovering. Offering soft foods. Asking if she needed ice. Asking if she needed more pain meds. Asking if she needed anything at all every twelve minutes because apparently that is my true calling in life.
Meanwhile, she was sitting there trying to focus on assignments while looking like she’d lost a fight with a very rude squirrel.
And then there was the cat.
Did the cat take one look at this poor swollen child and think, wow, maybe today is the day I show compassion? Of course not.
Absolutely not.
The cat still demanded snacks on schedule. Still wanted cuddles on demand. Still carried on as if the real tragedy in this house was the shocking delay in treat distribution. My daughter could barely open her mouth properly, and the cat was basically like, “That’s unfortunate. Anyway, where are my snacks?”
Honestly, I have to respect the consistency.
There is something almost admirable about that level of self-interest. No pity. No concern. No emotional support unless it happened to come with petting and a side of food. She did curl up nearby for a bit, but I’m fairly sure that was less about comfort and more about making sure no one forgot she existed during this medical crisis.
Priorities matter.
So this week has been a mix of ice packs, soft foods, school assignments, and one furry little dictator making sure her needs remained at the top of the family agenda.
My daughter, swollen cheeks and all, handled it like a champ.
The cat handled it like management.
And the rest of us just tried to keep up.
All the best,
Tia
