So much of parenting little kids is about teeth.
First you wonder when they’re going to get them. Then they do get them and for a while you have Tylenol (for the baby) and earplugs (for you) on tap. Then they start biting each other and probably you. Then they turn two and start being picky eaters who won’t bite anything if it’s not either beige or covered in orange cheese powder.
Then they suddenly are old enough to start losing their baby teeth and you get to do the teething thing all over again, but with horrible daily demonstrations of tooth-wiggling as a sort of prelude.
Yes, the tooth fairy paid us her first visit last night. She was generous, too, delivering a small book and a nice crisp $5 bill while some of us slept, because some of us wanted our daycare teacher to yank the tooth and were sorely disappointed that it came out of its own accord and the event needed to be turned into a happy one regardless.
I’m just happy I had nothing to do with the yanking. Brrrr.