Monday, 8 November 2010
Somehow, just two weeks after its emergence, John's tiny front tooth has been chipped.
There is no way to tell how he chipped it and there's no way to mend it now that it's done.
I've laddered my brain trying to determine the date of its denting, but his falls are too numerous to remember and his teeth are too tiny to see.
And so despite the fact that there's a jagged chip at the edge of my heart I simply have to accept that my brand new boy's brand new smile is destined to be marked by a dint.
I know that it's a small chip and that it doesn't bother him one bit, but I feel like a child who's broken their favourite present on Christmas afternoon; I ache with regret that something so perfect has been blemished and I shudder with horror at the thought that life is already chipping away at his smile.