This morning as I was flossing my daughter’s teeth and thinking in quasi-terror on the film I watched yesterday (it’s actually the associated featurette Possibility of Hope that has me upset), I noticed one of my daughter’s teeth was wiggling. At first I thought, What? Is she losing a tooth? But then thought, no no, that’s too young, she’s five. “Your tooth is loose!” I exclaim. “Did you hurt yourself?” trying to remember a recent headbonk with her brother. Damn. I know injured teeth can reseat. I gently wiggle the tooth again and Sophie backs up. “Don’t touch it!” she says waspishly. I say, OK, brush some more, be gentle.
Five minutes later I sit down and look up treatment of a loose tooth and as I was reading the first paragraph Sophie (getting her shoes on in the foyer) says out of the blue, “I don’t think I got hurt, Mama. I think that tooth is just loose.” (in her duck-voice). And of course, she’s totally right. The tooth location and the age are only a bit early to be lost.
Then she walked over to me and started reading the entry.
I am just not getting used to this whole, children growing up thing as fast as they themselves are growing.