Fanfare please, and bring out the jazz hands, for it’s a momentous day in our household. Eliza’s last baby tooth has made a special guest appearance in her mouth, which means she now has the whole set. And more importantly, it means No. More. Teething.
For her first baby tooth to this, her last, she has really suffered, as most parents of teething babies will know (see: teething terrors, yet more teething terrors, and probably loads more that I’ve hidden away in a dark corner of my mind). Although it does seem like the final two did just pop up out of no-where, it might explain her first wakeful night in ages – just after I wrote this, and when we were 20 minutes from the end of the Breaking Bad finale. She ended up startfishing in the middle of our bed, while Alex and I clung onto an inch of mattress on either side.
It is a bittersweet occasion, isn’t it? More markers of the passing of time and her growing up, my tiny helpless newborn baby no longer being a baby (and indeed not having been one for a very long time, although as my mum always tells me, “they never stop being your baby! Even when they are in their thirties and married with a child.”)
However; is it too early for a celebratory glass of wine?