Yesterday, Thalia did that thing she does when she’s proud of herself. She raised her hands in a V, a look of triumph across her face, then raced toward me in that position, across Christina‘s den, finally swinging her arms around my body to hug me tight.
The first loose tooth.
So many of her friends had lost teeth already, Thalia started to wonder when it would happen for her. (Eh, typical Brooklyn kids, even overachieving in the dental health department.) But then, for Thalia the teeth came in late; why wouldn’t they go out late?
On one hand, I felt a little emotional about the end of all those firsts, the things you write in baby books. (Or, uh, don’t.) But then my mind, as it has a tendency to do), started to fast forward, through a list of firsts you don’t see in the baby books.
The first lost tooth.
The first morning waking up to the tooth fairy’s reward.
The first adult tooth.
The first cavity.
The first sleepover party
The first secret club.
The first crush that you don’t understand.
The first broken heart.
The first mean girl.
The first BFF that lasts.
The first walk to school by yourself.
The first soccer tournament.
The first chapter book read under the covers by flashlight.
The first B where you felt you deserved an A.
The first crappy boy band you love.
The first crappy girl band you love.
The first gold medal
The first realization that every kid got a gold medal.
The first time it strikes you that your parents might not know everything.
I’m ready for some of them. Not all, but some.
Of course Nate would tell me, shut up Liz. It’s just a wiggly tooth.