I don't quite know how I feel about this.

Wy at 5 months.

Wyatt has his first tooth.

It's reassuring to know he's growing. Although a quick glance in his direction or a look at the ever-expanding size of his "doesn't fit anymore" clothes pile will also tell you that.

I must say I'm relieved to know he will have teeth -- it will be much easier for him to get and keep a job, I'm sure.  It's also good that he'll be able to chew his own food at some point -- assuming he gets a few more.  And it's gratifying to learn that the rivers of saliva we've been sopping up in recent weeks have actually had a legitimate purpose.

That said, I just know he's going to bite me with it.  More to the point, there's no going back.  He's not a toothless baby anymore.  His little smile is changing.

Changing . . . I've put my finger on it.  That's what I'm not keen on.  Right now, I am loving his baby face and all the grins and grunts and squeals he generates.  Seeing him change significantly by getting a tooth is just a harbinger of more radical non-baby-like things to come.  I'm not ready for that.

My dear friend Dana, who serendipitously visited us from Maine recently, reminded me that being a parent means experiencing lots of "little deaths" or the ends of things you find sweet and dear about your child.  Luckily, these tragic losses are usually salved by new, fun, and exciting things your child does.  Nevertheless, these milestones mean saying goodbye to a sweet stage of life, permanently.

Intellectually, I know being a parent means moving forward -- always toward the end of launching your offspring successfully as an independent, happy, healthy, clear-thinking person into the world.

I'm just not ready for that process to involve teeth.  Not this week anyway . . .

Wy's first tooth popped through the gum on June 6, 2011.