In November of last year, a couple of weeks before her sixth birthday, my daughter lost her first tooth.
She came home from school, giggling through a tight-lipped smile before saying “hey Mom, guess what?” and opening her mouth wide, jutting her bottom row of teeth forward so I could see. Her little baby tooth was in a plastic baggie in her folder, placed there by her teacher with a note that said “Sophie lost a tooth today!”
Later that night, after the kids were in bed, I threw on a jacket and headed to Target by myself in search of confetti and change for a twenty dollar bill. It was so dark out at only 7:30 PM—with little kids we so rarely find ourselves out of the house after their bedtime, and as silly as it sounds I was shocked to see the parking lot so crowded. There were several sets of young parents with newborns in car seats, and I so clearly recalled also being at Target with a brand new baby, fully engulfed in the newborn haze, having just finished a peppermint milkshake from the Chick-Fil-A down the street.
It was surreal to walk through the aisles of the store–alone, well-rested, fully aware of the time and day–buying tooth fairy supplies for a kindergartner who was sleeping soundly in her big girl bed back at home. It was the first time I really took a moment to feel the alone time I get in this season, with a six and now almost-three-year old. When they are tiny babies it feels like every night that they don’t sleep is the way life will be for you forever. Rocking a newborn in the middle of the night or nursing a teething baby, the time you might have slipped out of the house for a post-dinner Target run feels like a lifetime away.
And I know that this “two little big kids” time won’t last, either.
