There is a magical collection of milestones people like me amass. They provide testimony of time’s passage and the gifts of that time. For me, that collection includes many, many Ziplock bags of teeth. Those plastic land-fill-unfriendly bags containing bits of enamel and DNA will outlast me and any baby book I may have intended to complete. What I hope for is that the once holders of those teeth outlast me too.
Littlest lost his first tooth the other night. It’s been wiggly for days now, perhaps a bit more than a week.
Wiggly. Like five year olds with their first loose tooth.
And, as luck would have it, Littlest’s first loose tooth came during Holy Week and while I was up to my eyebrows in work-related stuff. So when he first yelled, “Mom! My tooth is loose!” my response was something like, “Yes dear.” Chalk up another distracted-mothering-fail. Go me, Mother of the Year award contender.
But he is good at giving grace so he did precisely what was needed.
He walked over to me, put his sweet little hand on mine and said, “Mom. My tooth is loose. I have a loose tooth. See?”
And then I did see.
It is such a gift when someone sees that you are not truly present in the moment and instead of getting angry, instead gives you a little grace and guides you back.
I feel like I may have lost a little bit more of my “baby” but I gained a moment to be tucked away with the rest of the collection stored in the Ziplock baggy of my mind. Where it will last as long as I do.