We did not have a very good evening... J tired, me with my mind full of something else: tempers were frayed and short. In the bath, he was splashing water over the side. I told him to stop (usually he would) but he just carried on - I shouted at him too fiercely. He started sobbing and put his fingers in his mouth, jabbing violently at his teeth, saying that they hurt HERE and HERE and HERE! Perplexed, I asked him what he meant. "YOU HURT MY FILLINGS!" he shouted with all the wounded outrage of five years old. I did try to explain, laughing, that his feelings were elsewhere but then it was his turn to look baffled.