Journal Excerpt

She is teething, and with a vengeance. That little bud that appeared and disappeared last December was definitely a fake-out; THESE are teeth, these wide white ridges rearing up from her ridgy gums.

We take our teeth for granted. I’ve learned to maneuver my mouth so I don’t bite my tongue or cheek; so my teeth don’t get in the way of my mouth closing; so they process food efficiently. I’ve learned to make them part of my sounds, of my language and my smile. She hasn’t done any of that. I hear her grinding her upper one against her two lower ones when she doesn’t think I’m listening, as if experimenting.

It must be a rather painful exercise, this bone bursting from flesh. When else does a whole new part of our bodies grow in? It’s as if we grew a third arm one painful joint at a time and then had to learn how to use it. Look, you’ll be happy you have them, I tell her. And I’ll love you the same even if you only have these three crooked-looking ones.