King lost his first tooth.
Kids lose teeth everyday. Old ones fall out, new ones grow in. No big deal. That's what I thought before I saw the little thing under his pillow. I think I actually shed a tear. It looked so small and helpless and... dirty? It looked really dirty. I reasoned out loud to Curtis that it was probably dried blood and dirt from being handled so much. "If that's what you want to believe... sure." (One of the many reasons I keep getting passed-up for Mother-of-the-Year is my failure to enforce proper oral hygiene, but I'm working on it.) I quickly ordered King to open his mouth and show me his teeth. They were clean, or at least, they looked nothing like the crusted tooth I was holding. I also developed a case of separation anxiety about the tooth. The day he lost it was the day he was supposed to go spend the night at his dad's house. Of course, the tooth had to go with him (for the tooth-fairy). The thought of letting it out of my realm of control deeply disturbed me. However, there was nothing I could do about the situation, so I settled for forcefully demanding that the tooth be returned promptly the next morning. Thankfully, he understood, citing that his mother still had every one of his baby teeth rotting in a jar somewhere. Mothers should have their children's fallen parts. It's a law.
Michael's milestone? He laughed at his own fart for the first time. They're growing up so fast.