Sunday, April 18, 2010


During the first inning of yesterday's game Oliver came tearing out of the dugout toward the stands instead of toward home plate for his first at-bat. "Mom, my tooth, my tooth." It had finally come out--persuaded, no doubt, by not a little wiggling while waiting for his turn to bat. I put the tooth into my pocket and returned to watching the game. His pronunciation is mostly unchanged, but certain words do seem to require a little extra effort, such as "toothless." He's a happy boy. In his mind, losing a tooth is the best, most important thing to have happened to him since getting a new baseball glove.