Mark lost his first tooth. He’s been wiggling it for days and today, at Braeden’s suggestion, he ate apple slices until it popped out. Mark bled and cheered and carefully inspected the tooth. Then he wanted to share the news.
He called Adam, then both sets of grandparents. Even with his just-lost-a-tooth-grown-up-ness, the concept of leaving a message for Grandma Geri and Grandpa Linn mystified him. He kept saying, “But no one’s talking!” He did get a hold of my parents and I heard him first report on the events then give them each a tutorial on how the tooth fairy works.
Later I talked to Adam (on his walk between his office to his car…as of yesterday, there’s a new law around here that bans talking on a cell phone—except hands free. I’m still not sure how I’ll cope). Adam called it a watershed event, our baby losing his baby tooth. He’s growing up and soon his tiny baby teeth will be replaced by big teeth that need braces.
Mark’s been moving fast his whole life, from the time his newborn arms refused to be confined in a receiving blanket. He crawled full speed into furniture, he runs more than walks, he’s been kicked out of the play area at IKEA (twice) and he’s my only child to get into trouble in primary. Braeden aptly called him a walking talking ball of caffeine.
I’m in no hurry for him to grow up though. I love his little 5 1/2 year old self (the 1/2 thing is really important to Mark). I just kissed him good-night, side stepping an arsenal of swords and light sabers and guns. He throws his grubby arms around me and still fits snugly into my arms. He still needs me to read stories to him because he can’t read yet and he still is comforted by a hug and kiss when he’s sad or hurt. I know too well that these things don’t last.
I need a magic potion that slows down growth. Now.
No comments:
Post a Comment