We were back from our getaway enjoying our niece's graduation party when Cole got pushed (to be discussed later) and landed teeth-first on the corner of an end table, popping out 2 of his teeth. I would like to document what happened afterwards for posterity's sake, but it's a bit of a blur and reliving it will just add to the wrenching pit I've had in my stomach for the past 24 hours.
But we found the teeth and were pleased, feeling like maybe they were salvagable. However, we found out that that is not usually the case and simple healing is the best bet. I should note how absolutely brave and awesome Cole was through the whole ordeal. He was an incredible trooper and doesn't seem to at all be bothered by the gaping hole in his mouth.
He was pushed by his brother who got fed up when Cole was being asked to move away from in front of the TV, but wasn't listening. Now, little shoving matches, kicks, slaps, occur almost daily between the two of them. Usually the only reprecussion is an annoyed mother. This was just a freakish event, but of course left Will feeling awful. We have handled that situation, but not without cautioning them about why wrestling and rough-housing isn't ideal. Risk of these "freakish" things increases.
Now, I wish I could say that seeing my child happy, playing, eating well, speaking well has me feeling great. No doubt it helps. But there is something about that cute little smile that has slowly grown day by day changing in an instant that is mind-blowing and hard to swallow. And I've played all the scenarios in my head (the "what ifs," the "if onlys," the "it's not that big of a deal in the grand scheme of things,") and with every day it won't be as fresh and present in my mind. But for now, I just want to go up to his room, open his mouth, stare at it and get to know this new smile like I knew that old one.
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