Ever since she lost that second tooth on top, I’ve caught her looking at her reflection in the mirror a number of times, checking to see if the tooth-window is still there. Sure enough, it is. I love to see her admire the changes that are so obvious in her body, knowing that some day the curiosity will be less blatant and outright, more private, as it should be. But for now, she’ll let me stand in the doorway of the bathroom and watch.
And she’ll try and brush those curls straight when her hair is wet, to see how long it really is, but by the time it dries, it springs back up to curly-sue type hair.
