Last week's tooth made me feel a little sad and sentimental. Think of all the expectation that goes into the arrival of that first tooth. Thomas Lux captures the feeling well.
My nephew's first tooth would threaten to come in and then retreat a bit. Poor sweet boy. His teething was not a fun experience. But everyone around sure enjoyed looking at his red gums for a glimpse of a newly emerging pearl.
And this week losing teeth is just how it is. We're off to the races, and I need to make sure the tooth fairy has some good state quarters in her possession.
Yesterday Ben and I attended the temple. There was a sweet older woman helping there. She was concerned that I might go into labor at any moment. I assured her that I had a little time left and that the reason my hand was on my belly was because the baby was moving around (although, where else put your hands when pregnant and sitting down quietly?) and not because I was having contractions. (Cramps, she called them. Hmm. Cramps. If I'm heading into labor I am not experiencing cramps, it's definitely Something Else.)
The woman was pleased to hear that my baby was just tumbling inside and not going to cause any of us immediate problems.
Of course in a while he'll be growing teeth. And then a little while longer he'll be losing them. And then growing bigger ones, that may need braces. There's a little bit of pain all around, isn't there. And some joy in the progression, too.