little boy mine

he lost his first tooth yesterday. in just one summer, he grew almost two inches, gained more than a pound and lost the first part of his babyhood.

i remember when that tooth came in. the sleepless nights that accompanied the first tangible sign of time moving forward. now it’s wrapped in tissue in my jewelry box.

this tooth is not just a tooth. it is another small slap in the face of what I already know, but can ignore most of the time. he's growing up. every day he slips further away from this little boy I won’t see again. the baby that is already gone.

and i miss him.

i miss the little boy who only needed my chest and a song to be happy. whose sticky fingers curled my hair, dirtied back door windows and fumbled delicate things. whose content sighs lulled us both to sleep at night.

but then there's this kid in front me.

this big man who steals my heart with his curiosity and enthusiasm. the one who asks me about whether I’ve been in "indian wars." the one who is so good at monkey bars that i brag to anyone who will listen. who won't touch his dinner because he's too busy journaling math problems to notice his hunger pains.

the one who is still trying to hold on to his babyhood, too.

“Mom, is the tooth fairy real?” 

“What do you think, kiddo?”

“It doesn’t seem possible that someone that small could hold a tooth.”

“Well, that’s a good observation. What does that make you think?”

“... I think maybe I’ll ask that question when I’m older.”

“Just let me know.”

i am in love with him, he who is becoming a man in front of my eyes, with his head on my shoulder and his dreams on his lips.

and i'll miss him one day, too.