Saint Nicholas

As any parent will tell you, things can change in the blink of an eye, as did our son's toothy smile in a brief moment of clumsy exhuberance yesterday at HAA. One fall (and I don't mean the season) and those two front teeth will never quite look the same. Of course, eventually they will fall out anyhow, but loose teeth give a parent some time to get used to the upcoming awdward grin and the lisp that accompanies it. Our change was a bit more sudden, a bit more bloody, and required an unexpected visit to the dentist. The teeth are still firmly rooted, though, and the dentist assures us that, not only will there be no permanent proglems, they might even slowly slide back into place. That would be good, because there are cookies to eat this season, and a play to perform in next week, lisp or no.

With an injury like that of course come tears and lots of hugs. I will say that for once I understood the "it takes a village" mantra, as the other mothers at HAA descended upon us with ice, phone calls to dentists, and a multitude of reassurances. With children of all ages involved in a homeschool gathering, there are mothers at all stages of parenthood available for advice, those who know what you are going through right now, and those who have been there before.

Calvin rebounded amazingly quickly. Though the dentist promised at least a week of needing soft foods and pain medication, as of yesterday morning it was like nothing had ever happened. Which was good because, or possibly encourage by, yesterday marked our annual celebration of Saint Nicholas Day. Oranges, pajamas, coins, and one gift (a Christmas felt set) in the ol' wooden shoe, Christmas songs galore, and dinner with family. The dates didn't align with the weekend this year so we're a few days off the official target, and we dropped the traditional fare for a more flavorful menu, but it was still the pre-party of our season, the kick-off to a landslide of events that will continue snowballing until they explode some time around New Years and we are left with the dark days of winter and an empty calendar stretching out before us for months.