LG lost her first tooth the other day. She's been "wobbling" it for weeks (I can't remember exactly how long) and Tuesday night, brushing her teeth, there it was in the bathroom sink in a pile of blue-colored spit. She was so incredibly excited about the Tooth Fairy, who, she explained to me, looks like Tinkerbell and lives in a castle made of teeth (ewww).
She's not a baby anymore. She's headed to kindergarten in the fall. And this tooth is a tangible reminder of how old she is, how mature she has become. It was the first tooth that came in when she was a baby, and now it's the first to go. I wasn't one to get all gooey over her meeting developmental milestones. But I had a hard time cutting her hair for the first time, and I'm still processing what loosing this tooth means. It happened the same day I found out about the pregnancy. The next morning, after inspecting the coin the Tooth Fairly left for her, LG told me in no uncertain terms that she wants a sibling.
My original plan was to have two children 4-5 years apart in age. 6, somehow, seemed like too big a difference. But now it seems just right to welcome a new member of our family when LG moves, officially, from toddler/preschooler to Big Kid. At least I hope it works out that way.
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