I am a mess, ready to burst into nostalgic tears.
I am now the mother of a six-year-old.
That isn’t the exact reason I am a mess.
It is because at 3 PM Tuesday, this was my big six-year-old…
….and this was my big six-year-old two hours later…
Much like mourning the end of the toothless baby grin (and accepting the days of letting your child teethe on your fingers is a thing of the past), I am lamenting the loss of my son’s perfect baby-toothed grin (and realizing orthodontic procedures will likely be in our future).
Holding his hand while he was introduced to the horrors of the Novocain shot did not help matters, nor did the price tag on the ten minute procedure.
Have I mentioned lately how I HATE the dentist?
Five minutes after the procedure he fully recovered, dancing around celebrating his first tooth loss.
The second is already loose, which I admit is better than the alternative of second dental visit.
While I love having my big boy, I will spend the rest of this week secretly sobbing at the beginning of this particular, very permanent milestone.
I’m trying to distract myself by celebrating his 6th birthday doing activities that were impossible with his younger self.
Following the tooth extraction, he wanted to go to karate (normally he will whine and wish to do other things), because he wanted to show everybody he’d lost a tooth.
And he did show EVERYBODY. Parents, instructors, other kids.
My mother and I watched as he focused—doing one of his better classes. At the end, he received his orange belt (we’d missed the promotion ceremony…. see Friday’s activity below).
This is then celebrated by doing his belt level’s board break.
He loves board breaking and nailed his the first try.
In lieu of going to the promotion ceremony that Friday, we took the opportunity to have rare Special Mommy Time Without Little Sister, thanks to my mother’s visit.
First, we went shopping… for roller skates. My thirteen-year-old roller blades died a few years ago (may they RIP) and with two young children, I didn’t bother replacing them.
My son, intrigued at seeing me roll in wheels (as was my wish), immediately wanted a pair to try on.
Less than an hour later, we were at a roller rink and he skated for the first time—fully decked out in elbow and knee pads, wrist guards, and a helmet—conveniently sold together with his new skates.
I honestly expected more whining, but other than demands for a snack and “my feet hurt” at the end, he was a natural.
Granted, he was often aided by the overpriced rental of the rolling guide bar (enabling him to go much faster), but he frequently shed the aid when a favorite song came on (such as Gangnam Style).
We even did the Hokey Pokey and the limbo—to the exact songs I remember doing it to as child.
He found the Hokey Pokey hilarious and managed not to wipe out while “you shake it all around”—amazing given we’d been in skates for about five minutes.
Meanwhile—we hit another and less nostalgic milestone on Monday:
My son beat me in bowling. By four points: 104 to 108.
He had a strike and two spares and had it not been for my lucky spare plus nine in the final frame, he would have creamed me.
We celebrated by baking cupcakes to take to school the next day.
I’m so proud of my big six-year-old.
But is there any way to keep the teeth for a few more years?
(Side note: I just realized… the tooth fairy forgot to come last night… I’m so not ready for this era.)
What milestone turns you nostalgic?