Disclaimer: Yes, I do recognize that I have other children. However, they spend all day in school, and only this smallest person is home with me through all these hours of every day.
So Matthew pulled out his very own first loose tooth last night. When he told me, about two weeks ago, that his tooth was loose, I thought, "I wonder who punched him in the face." His big sisters didn't lose teeth this young. In fact, Ellie's first didn't come out till the night before first grade. (Trauma=memory. She was sure she'd be the only first grader in the history of Elementary School with all her original teeth.) But every day since, he's asked, "Remember that I have a loose tooth? Remember my tooth?" Yeah, pal. I remember.
I remember the day that tooth came in, amidst copious drool. I remember the huge eyes, staring at me adoringly from above those cheeks -- those cheeks that beg fir nibbles. I remember your first steps at Disneyland, heavily assisted by us, many months before you were ready to actually walk on your own. I remember Bearnard, the only thing you really wanted for Christmas when you were three. His squishy arms covered in orangey-brown faux fur wrap you up in bed at night. I remember how you loved to walk to the mailbox with me to find kid-movies. I remember how it feels to have you sitting on my lap and reaching up behind your head to touch my face, or hug around my neck, all without disturbing the story-reading mojo.
And I hope I'll always remember.