Teeth

As modern parents, we have grown accustomed to the rigorous demands laid upon us by the milestone obsessed society in which we live, attested to by the three isles of scrap booking products at Hobby Lobby. Our shoulders are stronger from hours spent under the weight of a camera, our legs able to hold a squat for no less than 28 baby steps from any direction, and our ears' sensitivity peeked to the height of perceiving audible growth. Now, most of these demands I expected, and therefore joyfully accepted the role of development documenter.

So when the muscles in my arms tightened under the familiar weight of the camera yesterday, all to capture the loss of a tooth, I expected a similar milestone accomplished excitement that had accompanied so many others.



And yet, a tiny piece of my maternal heart seems to have been plucked out along with this whee little tooth. For the first time the flash of the camera was not recording what had become new in our child's life, but what had so long been there and was not any more.

Perhaps this is a little much for a tooth, even one watched for daily over six years ago, but in a tangible way, part of my first born's childhood was just out grown, and every day he is becoming more of a big boy.