My son is a snaggletooth boy these days. His adult teeth are coming in with a vengeance, both top and bottom, pushing his tiny, pearly baby teeth willy-nilly about in his mouth. They lean drunkenly against each other, waggling at the touch of a tongue or a probing finger, the gaps between them widening and narrowing with each wiggled test. He actually brushed one out the other night, while preparing for bed, but wasn’t fast enough to prevent it washing down the drain of the sink, so the tooth fairy was forced to go home empty-handed after dropping her bright 10-crown payment. Baby teeth are also known as deciduous teeth, a metaphor both touching and a little bizarre, little white leaves falling gently with the seasons. Karin, too, is dropping teeth like, er, flies. So far, for the both of them, it’s incisors. I am not looking forward to the eruption of the molars, those large and hunched plateaus in the caverns of their mouths.
We made a game of teeth-brushing when the kids were very small, both to make sure they brushed everywhere, and for long enough. Inside, outside, up and down, front and back, top and bottom, open wide! Now, TIGER TEETH! and they bared a toothy grimace at me and growled as I scrubbed diligently back and forth across the front and then back along each side, tucking the toothbrush into their cheeks and swirling it roundabout. They’re doing some of the brushing themselves now, most usually in the mornings, as I gag easily and can’t stand the spitting. “Rinse that away,” I grumble, “bleah.” They roll their eyes and laugh at me. “Am I done now, Mama?” asks one. “Not long enough,” I answer, “Keep going.” Inside, outside, up and down.
Things I’ve Reveled In the Past 24 Hours: coming home from vacation, sleeping in my own bed, sleeping in, having no plans whatsoever, walking with 2 feet
I am in a good mood, but a rather melancholy one, unable to settle to anything, working with fits and starts on my obligations, with no motivation but a looming deadline dangled like a moldy carrot in front of my reluctant donkey head. I stop to read a chapter of Byatt’s Possession, then start again, adding code here and there, making a couple of phone calls there. Putting dishes in the dishwasher is the next distraction, then sitting on the sofa watching the late afternoon sun slant across the room, sparking off the glass-fronted cabinet and warming a golden path across the parquet. I only have a few things left to do to finish up the website, but still have to put together the printed version, which also takes several hours, if not a day. Another click reveals no messages, no more reason to procrastinate. I shuffle my hooves and lunge again for the carrot.
Really Great Writing Out There Right Now: Must. Kill. Boyfriend.
A Wonderful Year of New Job, New Home, New Promises & Bright Birthday Wishes to therealshedork!