On Sunday night as Liam was brushing his teeth, he struck his loose one pretty hard I guess, and it started bleeding. He came running out of the bathroom frantically telling me, “My tooth is coming out! My tooth is coming out! Daddy, HURRY!”
He was a bit beside himself. See, he and I are the same when it comes to all things dealing with wounds and blood: not so good. at all. But Jenna was out, and I was left to do the deed. The tooth was hanging on by a thread and needed that last tug to come out. I psyched myself up with the whole “Man-Up, Mr. Scott” mantra. I took a tissue, grabbed the tooth, and pulled. POP!
Now, this is a fairly big deal in the life of a child, but I promise I’m not going to get all sentimental sappy on you.
It’s not like he’s going to be in first grade, is getting too big for his clothes, is starting to read and is doing math, or anything like that…
It’s not like it seems like yesterday he got his first tooth.
It’s not that he’s an amazing big brother when he wants to be.
It’s not that he’s growing up so incredibly fast.
He is… and so much more.