My baby is approaching another milestone, reminding me yet again that children do not stop growing and changing and inching closer to leaving the proverbial nest. She is about to lose her first tooth, or at least we are all praying to that end. Two of her adult teeth are poking through her gums behind her baby teeth. The baby teeth are plenty loose and ready to come out.
I have an awful childhood memory of a friend of our family abruptly take me by the hand in the middle of a church service, walk me downstairs to the basement bathroom, where no one would hear my wailing I suppose, and yank on a loose tooth until it came out. This may not be exactly how it happened, but that is what my childish mind and emotions made of it and how I remember it to this day.
Given my traumatic experience, I do not pull my children's teeth, but instead let them figure it out in their own way on their own time table. One result of this method is that I missed T losing his first tooth because it came out at a friend's house.
Last night as I tucked B into bed, she asked me to pray that her tooth would just fall out rather than her having to pull it out. I obliged and joked with her that she would likely lose it at her friend's house the next day. I told her I would be so sad if I missed her losing her first tooth. Her reply was less than sympathetic. She said, "Mom, I won't be sad if you miss it. You shouldn't be sad if you miss it. I'll send you a postcard!"