"Look," she said, as she held her hand open for me. Then she promptly went back to watching t.v. Completely disinterested in my reaction.
In her hand was the tiniest tooth. Her first one. I remember when she was 7 months old and it first popped through her gums. Now, lost forever.
I spent the afternoon feeling melancholic and she spent the afternoon calling people to tell them the good news.
Today, 3 months later, she lost her second tooth. It came out while wrestling on the trampoline with Daddy (go figure). After all the hullabaloo losing the first tooth, she had a better grasp on the significance this time around. And it needs to be noted that this time around, the tooth fairy can't come a day late because she needs to go to the bank. Annike might only be forgiving about that kind of thing once.
Besides being a right of passage in the Kindergarten class, losing teeth is just part of getting older. As my mother always said, getting older is better than the alternative. Too true. I just lament the passing of time, and wonder if I cherished the moments enough.
"Generations come and generations go, but the earth remains forever... What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun."
(Just for the record, since starting school she wears clothes a lot more than she used to. Losing teeth must have sent her into celebration mode which generally does involve less clothing.)