The Tooth And Nothing But The Tooth
Two hours in, and Matt was already drafting mental invitations for his coronation as Uncle of the Year.
Tony could suck it.
Lily had been… an angel, of sorts — or at least a tiny, reasonably well-behaved human. She’d eaten, played, even drifted into a forty-minute nap on the floor without warning, snuggled against her personal canine bodyguard, Meatball. Matt allowed himself a small, smug smile… until the universe, ever patient, decided to remind him that comfort was fleeting.
Nicole had tagged in for Jeanie, who’d been yanked away by a frantic call from Kennedy over a load-in emergency — one Ari would have solved in five minutes if she weren’t floating somewhere in Never-Never Land.
Matt leaned back in the hotel room chair like a proud general surveying a battlefield — a battlefield that, at the moment, included a silent, judging dog and a cooing baby batting playfully at his fingers. He fought the urge to text Jon and Ari: Two hours in. No apocalypse yet. You’re welcome.
But he didn’t. His sister-in-law was not one to be trifled with. And he valued his life.
It was calm. Too calm. Not a single shriek, projectile spit-up, or diaper disaster in sight. The quiet was deafening — the kind that screamed, You’ve enjoyed your victory long enough, Uncle Matt. Time to pay the toll.
And then it happened.
Lily’s eyes went wide. Her bottom lip trembled. And then—
The wail.
Not a normal cry.
A full-body, back-arching, window-rattling, hell-summoning shriek.
“Linda Blair mode, activated,” Matt muttered, scooping her up as if preparing for battle.
Nicole froze mid-sip, eyes wide. “Holy shit — did she swallow a siren?”
“Pretty sure they’re standard issue at birth for girls,” Matt said, bouncing her helplessly. “Okay, sweetheart. What happened? You were a dream child two minutes ago.”
Lily shrieked louder, burying her face in his shoulder.
Nicole’s brows knitted, her doctor brain flicking on like a precision switch. “Hold on. That wasn’t random — that’s a pain cry.”
“What kind of pain?” Matt asked, shifting her to the other hip as she wailed in his ear. “Baby betrayal? Baby boredom? I’ve forgotten fluent baby.”
“No,” Nicole said, pointing as Lily clawed at her ear. “Look — she keeps rubbing the right side. And she’s been drooling like crazy, right? Chewing on everything?”
Matt blinked. “Uh… yeah? Four days solid, according to Ari.”
“That tracks.” Nicole moved toward the ice bucket, eyes scanning. “Excess drooling can irritate the eustachian tube. Teething puts pressure along the jawline. It can cause referred ear pain. Her tiny face scrunches just thinking about it.”
Matt stared. “Referred what now?”
“Her gums hurt,” Nicole simplified, grabbing two frozen teething rings, “but her brain is sending the pain to her ear.”
She returned with a ring, which Lily promptly rejected with a dramatic wind-up and fling.
“So she’s screaming because her ear thinks her teeth are the problem?” Matt asked, shifting her again.
“Basically,” Nicole said, offering another toy. “Common in infants. I’m sure your kids went through the same thing.”
“This is gonna sound dick-ish,” Matt said, adjusting Lily as she wailed, “but I was on the road a lot when they were this age.”
“It doesn’t,” Nicole said gently. “She’s uncomfortable, confused, miserable. Poor thing.”
Just then, Lily bit his shoulder.
“Fucking awesome,” Matt groaned. “I get it. Tooth-ear-rage baby.”
Nicole smirked. “You wanted Uncle of the Year. Here’s your crown.”
Matt shot her a look, but Lily arched back and screamed again.
“What do we do?” he asked.
“We try everything,” Nicole said, rolling up her sleeves. “Cold pressure, distraction, chewing, upright snuggles. Worst case, we call Jon and Ari.”
“We are not calling them. They will never let me live this down.”
Nicole raised an eyebrow. “If she keeps going like this, we might have to.”
Matt exhaled. Outmatched by a tiny human. “Okay, okay. Baby steps. What’s first?”
She handed him a damp, cold washcloth. “Let her chew on this. Babies love it.”
Lily glared like it had personally insulted her, then screamed again.
“This child hates me.”
“No,” Nicole said, “she’s in pain.”
Meatball gave him the exact same look.
“I don’t need your judgment too,” Matt muttered.
Nicole tried two toys, one washcloth, and a cold teether. Lily rejected all of them.
“Okay,” Nicole said, rubbing her temples. “We’ve tried everything.”
“And she hates all of it,” Matt muttered.
“Because she’s miserable,” Nicole reminded him, though even she looked frazzled now.
Lily shrieked again, fists pounding Matt’s chest.
Nicole sighed. “One last idea. Not exactly textbook.”
Matt perked up. “Lay it on me.”
“My grandma used to do it,” Nicole said cautiously.
Meatball stood, ears perked, like even he knew something monumental was coming.
“A tiny dab of whiskey on the gums.”
Matt blinked. Twice.
“Whiskey-whiskey?” he asked. “Actual whiskey?”
“Just a dot,” she said. “Helps numb the gums. People have done it for generations.”
“Well, if we’re doing generations, we should at least use decent whiskey,” Matt muttered. “Jon’s room has the good stuff.”
Nicole gave him a flat look. “We are not raiding Jon’s private stash for a bourbon-marinated niece.”
Matt shrugged. “Could do tequila. Ari’s drink of choice. Practically runs in her veins.”
Nicole laughed despite herself. “Give her to me. Go raid the minibar for something safe.”
Matt dropped to his knees like a man approaching holy ground, opening the minibar and gasping.
“…Holy shit. Nic. It’s beautiful.”
“Matt,” Nicole warned, bouncing Lily. “Focus.”
“I am focused. Spiritually.”
He lifted the first bottle. “Jack Daniel’s Classic. Ari approved. Honestly, shocked it’s not already in Lily’s sippy cup.”
“Matthew.”
“Wait — Johnnie Walker Black.” He held it up. “Baby’s first promotion.”
“Matt!”
“Oh my God, Maker’s Mark!” He cradled it. “Look at the wax top! This is artisanal.”
Lily shrieked louder.
“She doesn’t give a shit about the wax,” Nicole hissed.
“I give a shit about the wax,” he muttered, settling it gently.
A flash of red caught his eye.
“Fireball.”
“No,” Nicole said flatly. “Absolutely not.”
“But—”
“Put. It. Down.”
Matt rummaged deeper, bottles clinking like wind chimes made by alcoholics.
“Oho — Jameson! Irish. This one practically comes with a lullaby and generational trauma.”
Nicole stared. “We are not giving her Irish trauma whiskey.”
“Please. Irish babies cut teeth on this. Literally. Folklore.”
“Matt!”
He sighed and tossed it onto the carpet. “Saint Patrick is judging you, not me.”
“You know what?” He reached for the first bottle. “Let’s go with the original. Jack Daniel’s. Smooth, reliable… less likely to piss off my sister-in-law.”
Nicole sagged. “Finally.”
He popped the cap like opening a fine wine. “To survival… and teething demons.”
Nicole nodded solemnly. “Amen.”
She dipped her fingertip in the whiskey, muttering, “My medical license is screaming,” before rubbing a tiny dab onto Lily’s swollen gums.
Lily froze. Statue-still. Her red face went blank. Her tongue flicked in and out, assessing the intruder. Even Meatball paused mid-judge.
“Did we just… exorcise her?” Matt whispered.
“Either that,” Nicole murmured, “or good old No. 7 did the trick.”
For three long seconds, the room held its breath.
Then Lily let out a soft hiccup, blinked… and sighed. Slumping against Nicole like a drunk tween who’d swiped a sip of her mother’s cocktail.
Matt threw his hands in the air like a referee signaling touchdown. “AND the crowd goes wild. Uncle of the Year — LOCK IT IN!”
Nicole shot him a look. “You know this was my idea.”
“Yep,” Matt said proudly, “and I’ll state it was your idea if the parents ask questions.”
“You’re an asshole!”
A knock cut through the room.
“…Who is it?” Matt called.
Gloria’s crisp, unimpressed voice. “Open the door.”
Nicole gasped. “Oh, thank God.”
Matt yanked the door open like salvation had arrived.
Gloria strode in, taking in the chaos — scattered toys, a half-open minibar, a very smug dog — and held out her arms.
“Gimme. I’ll take it from here.”
Nicole practically thrust the now-content Lily into her hands. “Bless you. But I thought you weren’t getting in till tomorrow?”
“My emergency was handled,” Gloria said, settling Lily on her shoulder with the ease of a seasoned pro. “None of you answered your phones, so I called Cliff. He told me the situation. I hopped on the next flight.”
Matt exhaled so hard his soul nearly left his body.
“Gloria,” he said reverently, “you are a gift from God.”
“Damn right,” she said, tucking Lily into her stroller. “Now… which one of you geniuses gave her whiskey?”
Nicole and Matt answered in perfect unison.
“It was his idea.”
“It was her idea.”
They pointed at each other like guilty eight-year-olds caught with a stolen cannoli.
Gloria snorted.
“Please. Whiskey on the gums? That’s not a crime — that’s Tuesday.” She stuffed Lily’s things into Ari’s oversized knapsack. “My Nonna kept a bottle on the nightstand for this exact reason. Honestly, I’m impressed you two even thought of it.”
Matt sagged with relief. “So… I’m not getting fired?”
“Nah,” Gloria said dryly. “Judging by your last name and the fact you’re the baby of the family, I’d say you’ve got lifetime job security.”
Nicole burst out laughing.
Gloria jerked her chin toward the door. “We’ll get out of your hair. You two are relieved from duty.”
Matt and Nicole exchanged a look of pure exhaustion.
“Tag — you’re it,” they said in unison.
♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱
Ari woke first.
Not gracefully — she surfaced from sleep like a machine rebooting, every joint stiff, every muscle complaining, her mind flickering to life in fragmented bursts.
“Jon?” Her voice came out a hoarse croak, like sandpaper on velvet.
From the other side of the bed came a groan, guttural and pitiful, the sort of sound that made you simultaneously laugh and worry a man might actually expire from too much life experience and bad decisions.
“No talking. Cognitive functions unavailable. Try again later.”
Ari blinked, scanning the dimly lit room like it was a foreign landscape. “Jon… I think we actually slept.”
“How long?” he murmured, rolling onto his back with a stretch that made him groan anew.
She squinted at the clock. “Four hours.”
“Come again?”
“Four hours. Two hundred and forty blissful, uninterrupted minutes.”
He stared at her, a crooked smirk tugging at his face. “Not that you’re counting.”
“Zip it, smartass.” She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, feeling the mattress sigh beneath her. “We really should check on Matt and Jeanie.”
“You should shower first. You smell.”
“I do not.”
“The dried drool in your hair and the… fermented banana aroma says otherwise.”
“Smelly or not, I’m going to check for survivors.”
They peeled themselves out of bed. Jon shuffled toward the door first, shoulders slumped, hair a chaotic halo of rebellion. Ari followed, tugging at her slept-in T-shirt. Moonlight filtered through the suite’s wide windows, painting the living room in silvery shadows.
Jon snatched a bottle of water from the table as Ari cracked open the door and peeked into the hall.
Gloria appeared first, pushing Lily in her stroller, Meatball padding quietly behind like a miniature, furry sentry. At the far end of the hallway, leaning against the wall with a coffee cup in hand, stood Cliff — the ever-vigilant guardian.
“Well, look who’s alive,” Gloria called, voice smooth and teasing.
“When did you get here?” Jon asked.
“About two hours ago.”
“Are the Bobbsey twins okay? Or did Lily knock them out too?” Ari asked, half-smiling.
“They’re alive,” Gloria said, smirking.
Ari tiptoed closer, her eyes softening at the sight of Lily’s calm, peaceful face. “She’s not screaming. How did you get her to sleep?”
Gloria shrugged, casual and unbothered. “Same way my Nonna and mother handled three teething babies in a two-bedroom apartment.”
“Wait. You didn’t—”
Gloria smirked knowingly. “Tiny bit of whiskey.”
Jon ran a hand over his face, exhaling a laugh. “Of course. I remember my mom doing the same.”
Ari’s expression melted into a smile, amusement dancing in her tired eyes. “Honestly? My dad used to joke he did that to me. Said that’s why I love Jack Daniel’s so much. Wish I had remembered sooner,” she murmured, shaking her head. “We could have saved ourselves days of lost sleep.”
Gloria waved a hand dismissively. “Old-school tricks of the trade. And apparently, Matt tried his absolute best to follow the textbook.”
Jon blinked. “Matt… did it?”
Gloria snorted. “More like he tried hosting a whiskey tasting.”
“Of course he did,” Ari groaned, leaning against the wall for support.
“It was Nicole’s idea,” Gloria added. “He was just… taking notes from the minibar like it was the Kentucky Derby.”
“Nicole? What happened to Jeanie?”
“No idea. I haven’t seen her since I arrived.”
Ari exhaled, shoulders finally loosening. “Thank you. Seriously.”
Gloria waved again. “Go back to bed. I’ll take her in my room tonight. You two look half-dead, and you have a show tomorrow.”
Ari hugged her tightly, then bent to kiss Lily’s soft forehead. “Goodnight, my sweet girl.”
“You’re a godsend, Gloria,” Jon said, turning toward Cliff at the end of the hall with a wave and a mock salute.
The door closed softly behind them, sealing the quiet hum of the suite around Jon and Ari. Ari sank into the sheets, the fabric cool and comforting against her skin, and let out a long, relieved sigh. Jon collapsed beside her, draping an arm over her waist and pressing a gentle kiss to the nape of her neck.
The mattress seemed to cradle them, welcoming two bodies frayed from travel, teething crises, and too many sleepless nights. Muscles softened, tension unwound, and the chaotic world outside — the night, the hallway, the echo of a tiny, fierce baby — faded into a distant hum.
For the first time that day, everything felt… okay.