A month passed the way months did now, folded into school runs and board meetings and the ordinary business of raising three children under one roof. Lexx had grown into himself over it, seven months old and considerably heavier for it, cheeks rounder, a fist of dark hair that refused every attempt to smooth it down. For most of that month he’d been an easy baby, the kind who laughed at nothing and slept through most nights without complaint.
The last four days had undone all of that.
He’d started refusing his bottle first, turning his face away from it with a persistence that read less like a phase and more like a grievance. Then came the crying, low and constant, the kind that didn’t resolve with rocking or singing or any of the usual tricks that had worked reliably since he was born. He wouldn’t settle in anyone’s arms for longer than a few minutes, not even Gio’s, which alarmed the household more than the crying itself.
"He’s never done that before," Lily said, standing in the nursery doorway with her arms crossed, watching Arianne try and fail to get him to take even an ounce from the bottle. "Not even to Uncle Gio."
"I know." Arianne set the bottle down, Lexx’s cry climbing another half register in protest at the interruption. "Something’s wrong. I can feel it."
Leo stood beside his sister, the kind of silent that meant he was working through something rather than avoiding it, and reached over without a word to pat Lexx’s foot through the blanket, a small useless gesture that mattered more to him than it did to the baby.
By that evening Lexx had a fever, and Arianne called Ellie before she’d finished checking the thermometer twice to be sure.
Ellie arrived within the hour, medical bag in hand, and didn’t rush a single step of the exam until she’d confirmed there was something worth rushing for. She sat on the edge of the changing table with Lexx propped against her knee, checking his ears first, then running a finger along his gums while he fussed and tried to bite down on it out of pure reflex.
"There it is." Ellie withdrew her finger and wiped it on the towel over her shoulder. "His gums are swollen, both sides, lower more than upper. And he’s been at his ears, hasn’t he? Scratching, pulling at them?"
"Constantly," Arianne said. "I thought it might be an infection."
"It’s teething." Ellie said it easily, more relief in her voice than diagnosis. "The fever, the ear-pulling, the refusal to eat the way he usually does — all classic. His first tooth is close. Some babies barely notice it happening. Others act like the world is ending. Lexx, apparently, is a world-ending kind of baby."
"That tracks," Lily said from the doorway, flat and certain, like she’d known it all along.
"How’s his feeding been otherwise?" Ellie asked. "Besides refusing the bottle."
"He won’t take it at all. He’ll nurse, though. He’s been asking for that almost exclusively the last two days." Arianne glanced toward the crib, where Lexx’s crying had eased into a lower whimper now that Ellie’s hands had stopped exploring his mouth. "I wasn’t sure if that was a step backward."
"It’s not. It’s smart, actually, on his end." Ellie handed Lexx back to Arianne, who settled him against her shoulder without needing to be asked twice. "Nursing is softer on sore gums than a bottle nipple, and the closeness soothes him in a way a bottle can’t. I’d let him nurse as much as he wants for the next week or two. Don’t force the bottle back on him until the worst of this passes."
"What else can we do for him?"
"Cold, not frozen, teething rings. A clean, damp washcloth kept in the fridge works just as well if you don’t have one on hand. You can rub a clean finger along his gums if he’ll let you, which he might not, given how he just tried to remove one of mine. Keep him hydrated. If the fever climbs past what I’ve written down for you, call me, but I’d be surprised if it does. This should ease within a few days once the tooth actually breaks through."
"A few days." Arianne repeated it like she was testing whether the number would hold up under pressure.
"Give or take. First teeth are usually the worst of it, mostly because neither of you know what’s happening yet. By the third or fourth one, you’ll barely notice." Ellie glanced at Lily and Leo, both of them watching from the doorway, quiet and attentive, clearly intending to remember every word of it. "These two survived it. So will he."
"Did I cry this much when I was little?" Lily asked, indignant at the very idea.
"You’d have to ask your grandparents. I only met you two two years ago, the winter you both spiked that fever and your Mommy Aria called me in a panic." Ellie’s mouth curved despite herself at the twin outrage that produced. "If I had to guess, based on everything I know about both of you now? Yes. Loudly. With opinions."
Lily edged into the room properly now, close enough to see Lexx’s face over Arianne’s shoulder. "Is he going to be okay?"
"He’s going to be completely fine." Ellie said it without hesitation, the kind of certainty that came from having said it a thousand times before and meaning it every single one. "Teething is normal. Uncomfortable, loud, occasionally dramatic, but normal. He’s growing his first teeth, which means before too long he’ll be ready for real food instead of just milk. That’s actually good news. It means you two are going to have a job soon."
"What job?" Leo asked.
"Teaching him how to eat. Showing him what healthy food looks like, since he’ll be watching everything you two do at the table and copying it." Ellie began gathering her things back into the bag. "Babies learn to eat by watching, not by being told."
Leo’s face opened into the kind of expression that meant an idea had landed somewhere important. "I’ll teach him carrots."
"You’ll teach him carrots," Lily repeated, unconvinced. "You barely eat carrots yourself."
"I eat carrots."
"You pick around them." Lily turned to the small plate of vegetables Aunt Estella had left on the side table earlier, mostly untouched, and picked up a piece of broccoli, holding it up like evidence before she ate it. She chewed with visible determination and looked at Leo like the matter was now settled. "See? Easy. If you want Lexx to eat healthy, you have to show him first. That’s how it works."
Leo shook his head, unmoved. "Lexx won’t find broccoli yummy. Not like me."
"You don’t find it yummy either."
"I know." Leo said it without a trace of shame, entirely satisfied with his own logic. "That’s why I said it."
Ellie laughed, packing the last of her instruments away. Arianne stayed where she was with Lexx’s small weight settling heavier against her shoulder by the minute, listening to the two of them argue about broccoli like it was the most important negotiation of their lives.