Loose Tooth

On Monday, Vanya discovered his first loose tooth.

He was a little worried, having heard that there might be blood involved. I, on the other hand, felt like someone had punched me in the stomach. This is really the worst blow to the illusion that he'll stay a little boy forever since the first day of Kindergarten, which similarly, made me want to cry.

We walked around the kitchen, sort of bewildered, talking about what a big kid Vanya is now. It made him think to ask, "Well, can I have a cocktail now?"

He's been somewhat intrigued by the fact that grown-ups get together, have a cocktail, and talk. After his birthday party, I heard him ask his Granny, "Are you going to come over to our house for cocktails?"

At any rate, today's loose teeth are timed so that they coincide with the first generation to have phone video recording cameras at the ready, complete with lighting. Parents of time gone by are forced to remember loose teeth, while we can have reminders like this.

See, yesteryear's parents would probably forget the chapped lips and yellow molars. I'm also surprised that the loose tooth is blue. It's obviously already dead.

Hopefully, there won't be a lot of blood.

I posted this Thursday evening, before heading out to the New Orleans streets for our normal lineup of parades. After two rather boring ones, Muses starts. It's late, but the crowd is more enthusiastic. The bands are better; the floats are better; Vanya is really starting to have fun for the first time all night.

The scene is early in the parade. Float 5 has just passed, and a high school band is approaching. We can see Mrs. theskinnyonbenny's float right behind them. We've been waiting for her float for three or four hours, and we're really keyed up.

Vanya taps me on the arm and points to a bit of empty street, just in front of us. I bend down, but can't really hear what he's saying. There are bits and pieces of trash where he's pointing. I bend further. I see a little white speck, and it dawns on me that maybe it's his tooth.

I stab it with an index finger, and it sticks to the skin. It feels like a tooth. I confirm, "You lost your tooth?"

He nods as I lift him up on my shoulders to try to see his mother. Strangers on each side hear that he lost his first tooth and high-five with congratulations.

I worry about where to put it. Mrs. theskinnyonbenny would be pissed if I lost it, but we're covered in beads and toys. The tooth is really small, and I don't really trust my pockets. Sarah suggests my wallet, and that seems to have worked.

By the way, did you know that the tooth fairy won't come find you? You have to do the pillow-tooth bit at home for it to work. She's no Santa Claus, that's for sure.