As you may recall, my son has been distinguishing the birthdays of some very special people -- his grandmothers Diane and Edna -- with the loss of his baby teeth.
So I was thrilled when he announced last week that a third tooth was loose. After all, his very own mother's birthday is impending. Alas, I am not to be so honored.
Distressed by the blood in his mouth, he frantically called to me this evening. I ushered him upstairs and into the bathroom to take a look. His upper front tooth was barely hanging. I asked him if he wanted me to pull it out. He did. I lost courage and called in his Daddy for reinforcement.
My husband arrived, grimacing as he peered into our son's mouth. He, too, hesitated. My son reached into his mouth and calmly pulled out the tooth himself.
In his bedroom, he handed it to me. "Happy birthday Mom," he said five days early. The tooth, he told his grandmother later, just couldn't wait.
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