Chez Moi

P lost another tooth this Friday, his second one. Apparently, it came off when he bit into his sandwich at lunchtime. I was surprised at its appearance because I wasn’t aware that this one was loose. The first one came out surrounded by some major drama - “oooh it is wobbling!” to “oh there is BLOOD!”. This one was rather anti-climatic, with just the appearance of it to show for it and not even a request about the Tooth Fairy. Wonder what came of his plans to make some serious dosh out of his teeth!

Anyways, P then carefully put it in his pocket and handed it to me on reaching home. I promptly moved it to the ‘My Baby’s First Tooth’ box, already housing the first one. That was when I wondered if I should bury the damn thing or just let it be. I had visions of it becoming full of my baby’s full supply of milk teeth. That will be taking things a mite too far, won’t it?

I also have his baby bag packed full of his baby clothes. Booties, mittens, body suits, itty bitty shorts, jeans, jackets - the whole lot. I simply cannot bear to throw any of his stuff away. I feel like a traitor, like I am chucking away part of his childhood.

Of course my husband thinks I am nuts. Why can’t you enjoy him now instead of trying to hold on to the past, he asks. True enough. But letting go is so difficult, isn’t it? If I can somehow hold on to his baby days, I can slow him down from growing up and away, can’t I?

Ah, motherhood. It ain’t easy. Good thing too.