Childhood in My Hand

Not more than an hour after I posted my last entry, my daughter's wiggly tooth came out.
I cannot explain what it feels like to hold a tiny piece of her childhood in my hand.

Wiggly Teeth

Saturday night, after a busy day and a birthday party, my almost-six-year-old daughter came running into the bathroom where I was brushing my teeth. Clothed in her butterfly pull-over towel, glasses off, hair wet, she's still so little, so sweet and innocent. Daddy followed close behind, camera in hand. Tears in her eyes and a smile on her face—a trace of fright swirled in with the excitement about growing up just a little bit more—she announced that one of her teeth was "wiggly."
Those precious baby teeth that I lovingly counted, the arrival of each one anxiously awaited, are now falling out. "Grown up teeth" are on the way. Adding to my list another of those many things you don’t think about being temporal until they’re on their way out the door.
Another milestone reached. The others have passed in a blur.
Where does the time go? Savor every moment.