One of the primary differences between a first-born and a later-born: with your first-born, you’re excited about many milestones. With your later-born, you know better.

Last night I finally glimpsed that thing for which I have been waiting. I knew it was coming, read the signs. There was the fussiness. The drool. The gnawing. And then last night I saw the glimmer — the tiny dot of white in a previously pink expanse.

Thane’s first tooth has arrived.

A myriad things whirl through my mind — now he’ll have better luck with some solids. Perhaps the fussiness will go down a notch. I think of the troubles that I’ve started having nursing (hurts like a sonofa, and my production is tailing off – I’m pumping about 12 ounces a day and he’s drinking 18 – 20. You do the math on that one.) With teeth, that’s only going to get harder.

Dominant among the thoughts, though, is that my baby has taken one more milestone step away from babyhood and towards boyhood.

How I will miss the gummy smile!

Look ma! No teeth!
Look ma! No teeth!