Little One-Tooth

Well, that's how we used to know him. M's first tooth came in when he turned eight months old. Top left, sharp and pretty. A perfect egg tooth. The kind old sailors use to open their cans of spinach. The kind that flashes when old witchy women throw back their heads and cackle. M cut his next three teeth all within a fortnight of the first one and the whole Rioux family felt his pain. He bit his daddy's cheek and broke the skin. We won't even mention what he did to his mommy's nipples. Ironically, his big brother remains unscathed. Perhaps M is waiting for his eye teeth so his revenge for all those brotherly bruisings can be so much sweeter.

Sleep My Beauties

When they sleep they are so beautiful that all memories of the day's struggles, the week's grief, the month's trials, slip so easily away. I forget what needs to be forgotten and remember where I am, how briefly I will be here. Again and again I find myself falling in love with these sleeping bodies, their perfect round heads, their innocent mouths. Again and again I stand over them in quiet awe, loving them, realizing how grateful I am to be this very mother.