"Every tooth in a man's head is more valuable than a diamond." ~Miguel de Cervantes, Don Quixote, 1605
This afternoon, Molly burst through the door with big news. Her two bottom teeth are loose. Apparently they were firmly affixed earlier in the day. She then bit into the rice crispy square I sent her for snack and voila...loose teeth. I experienced a brief twinge of guilt when I recalled my thought process while packing her lunch this morning...it went something like: "Man, that square Molly didn't eat on Friday is rock hard, but there's nothing wrong with it otherwise...hello Monday snack!" Oops. It was really hard.
She was thrilled. This has been a big topic of conversation in our house. From the time Molly was a tiny girl, she has asked me about what it is like to lose teeth and when it will happen. Not in a woohoo way. More like a flashback from those bad nightmares you get when all your teeth simultaneously crumble out of your mouth like old chalk way -- or am I the only one who gets that dream? Molly has a complicated relationship with aging. She would love to still be a baby and generally, any milestone that takes her further away from babyhood is viewed by Moll with suspicion. Couple that proclivity with the naturally scary prospect of disappearing teeth and we had all the ingredients for a girlhood paranoia.
But now most of her friends have lost a lot of teeth. She was starting to wonder if she would be walking down her wedding aisle with baby chompers. I think she is relieved.
I, on the other hand, almost burst into tears. Plus, loose teeth kinda give me the heebies. Anyone else?
Gap-toothed pictures to follow...
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