But I WAITED for you

N lost her first tooth today.

We knew this day was coming, obviously. In fact, at her dental check up two years ago,  her dentist said it was loose.

I'm thinking he was jumping the gun just a little.

So we've been waiting...waiting for it to get looser, waiting for it to look looser, waiting for it to get as loose as it was yesterday, since it really seemed to have tightened up since then, didn't it, mom?

Waiting to be the last kid in the whole second grade to lose a tooth.

I haven't verified the accuracy of that statement, but as in most things, it's really all in the perception, anyway.

And it was definitely N's perception that she was the only child of approximately 125 second graders who had not lost a tooth.

Eventually, it was clear that the tooth really was loose. Then looser. And then looser still.

And today, when it was bleeding, there were tears, and anxiety, because well, we didn't know there would be actual blood.

That tooth was obviously hanging on by a thread. And after several trips to the bathroom to see if it was bleeding even more, N was barely hanging on by a thread.

So, of course, I was, too.

I told her she could pull it out, or brush her teeth, and it would probably come out on its own. I offered to pull it out myself, and she told me, pretty clearly, absolutely not.

Thank you God, for that one.

Eventually, as N wiggled her tooth for the forty-seventh time in five minutes, it came out.

All by itself.

Well, you know, more or less.

Her tears turned to laughter, as she ran around the house yelling, "I lost a tooth! I finally lost a tooth!"

Ever the supportive brother, B ran out into the driveway to announce to anyone who cared--and anyone who didn't--that N had lost a tooth.

O also joined in the celebration by dancing around the house.  Sweet boy.

We're pretty sure he had absolutely no idea what all the celebrating was about.

N handed the tooth over to me, and as I looked at that little white nugget, I thought I was going to cry.

And then I got mad instead.

THIS is the thanks I get?

I waited for you for nine long months.

Who knew it took as long for a baby to grow a tooth as it did to grow a baby?

From the first sign of excessive drool when N was barely three months, we anxiously waited for the first sign of you. We thought you'd never get here.

In the first of many parenting "what ifs", we wondered if maybe our cute toothless, bald baby was just going to remain toothless.

We realized it might be an impediment to future relationships, but we were OK with it. We thought she was adorable without teeth.

And, then, eventually, after looking in her mouth several times a day for months, hoping to spot something pearly white, one day we actually did.

There was actually a tooth in that mouth.

I wrote it down in the baby book.

I took pictures.

I called friends and family.

We had an actual tooth.

It was just a small one.

But still, it was there.

If my sons ever ask, I will assure them that I did the same for them. After all, just because they are the second and third children doesn't mean their teeth were any less spectacular. All first teeth should be celebrated. And celebrate we did.

I will tell my sons this. And I will be lying.

Through my teeth.

Anyway, I made sure I took care of you, Tooth--and those that followed, too.

I brushed you.

I worried that you were coming in crooked.

I kept lollipops and candy away from you.

OK, so that's not true.

But I tried.

I made sure you got fluoride, but not too much.

And I made sure you didn't get certain antibiotics.

I just wanted you to stay healthy, and pretty, and strong.

Yes, I did all that.

And for what?

So you could just one day fall out?

I know...you're just a tooth. And, yes, of course, I knew this day would come. And OK, fine, baby teeth are supposed to fall out.

Whatever.

I joined in today's celebration, of course. What an exciting day this is, when you lose your first tooth.

Especially when you were the last kid in the second grade to lose one.

But don't think this is easy for me, Tooth--this whole falling out thing.

Just because I'm smiling, and laughing, and asking N to repeatedly say words like "lettuce", doesn't mean that, inside, I'm not still a little sad.

There's this cute little hole in N's mouth now, where you used to be.

And I think I have one in my heart to match it.

It's just a small one.

But still, it's there.