When I look at TheBoy, I see my widdle puddle of baby love. Even if he's become a self proclaimed "handsome big boy," I still see my widdle baby.
And when I look at him, I see the widdle baby who had two widdle teef in the bottom of his widdle mouth for a dery, dery long time before any other teef erupted.
Every gummy smile was a sweet, silly reaffirmation that children are a gift from the Lord.
Eventually, my boy grew bigger. And got more teeth.
And bigger. More teeth. Bigger. More teeth.
You get the picture.
He keeps growing. And growing and growing. Darn, why don't these kids just stay the widdle bundle of sweet smelling goodness that they were JUST yesterday???
So my self proclaimed "handsome big boy" told us a few weeks ago that he had a loose tooth.
"Dream on!" I thought. "You're my widdle biddy baby. You're too widdle for woose teef."
Unless, of course, I was wrong.
Which was emphasized by TheBoy losing his first tooth.
And, I'll be darned, if he didn't do the same thing again.
The very next day!