When I started to lose my teeth as a young kid, I remember wiggling them with my tongue for hours and hours until my tongue was sore. I also remember grabbing them between my thumb and index finger and forcefully pushing them back and forth in an effort to finally shake them loose.
Once the tooth was out, the gap felt so huge and strange and gushy. It was both gruesome and wondrous. And the next stage was almost as good: all of a sudden a fresh, white tooth would start emerging from my gum and I would spend hours playing with it with my tongue and wondering what it would look like when it finished growing in. It never hurt, it was just really cool.
Now that I'm grown, the thought of losing my teeth gives me the willies, but at the time, I saw nothing gross about it at all. Had I been able to recall the work that went into cutting those baby teeth, I may not have so zealously yanked them from my head.
Sonja had a pretty easy time with teething and her teeth all came in fairly quickly and in quick succession. So far, Haven's teeth seem to be taking more time, with a more noticeable effort. She has had two bottom teeth for a few months now, and after weeks and weeks of bulging gums and obvious discomfort, she has four teeth coming in on top.
It has been a long haul, with learning to crawl and a bout of flu thrown in, so I thought I would dedicate today's post to Haven's newly-toothed grin. All the better to bite me with.
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