The following conversation occurred this morning in the bathroom:
Me: Brush your teeth.
Zoë: (leaning over sink with face close to the mirror and fingers on teeth) I think this tooth is getting loose.
Me: Let me see!
Zoë: Here. (Presenting open mouth with finger on one of her bottom front teeth.)
Me: (Feeling tooth) I don't feel it moving, honey.
Zoë: You have to do it hard.
Me: Oh, OK. Brush your teeth now.
Zoë: Mom? Can God forget stuff?
Me: I don't think so.
Zoë: I think God forgot to give me big girl teeth.
Me: I think they're just not ready yet. They will come and you will get a loose tooth. I promise you. You just have to wait for your body to be ready.
Zoë: I think God forgot. Katie lost a tooth. Kyra has a loose tooth. Everyone but me.
Me: I promise your teeth will get loose just as soon as the big girl teeth are ready now please brush your teeth or we are going to be late.
Zoë: (Big sigh) OK.
3 comments:
Well, you know, God forgot to give me long, thick, luscious black hair and big boobs. But, shhhh...don't tell poor Zoe that.
And I think the grace fairy was running a bit late and didn't make it to my crib in time.
Ah the joys of genetic fate.
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