A First Loose Tooth

Standing on the step stool to look in the bathroom mirror while she wiggled her tooth, Vaughn announced, “My tooth is a rocking chair.”

      —•—

Later last night, I tried to explain to Vaughn, who had been bothered by talk of starting again to look for a new house, that it didn't matter what house we lived in, the important thing was that we are all together, to which she replied, “We won't be together when we’re gone,” and then proceeded to cry.

      —•—

My tooth is a rocking chair.
We won't be together when we’re gone.