the new arrival

Stanley cried and cried all morning yesterday. In the afternoon, i put my finger in his mouth for him to chew on, thinking that might help, and lo and belold, i felt a tinly sharp tooth peeking through. It's still pretty small, and it's hard to get a look at, but it's really there! My baby has a tooth! i sat there imagining all these terrible things...I imagined him being 8 years old and playing in the yard by himself, I imagined him being 12 and growing out of his clothes, and passing the sacrament with white socks between his black pants and black shoes... It all became too much when i imagined him as a 17 year old, taller than me, walking in and out of the house like he owned the place...how can this happen? How will he ever grow up? and what if i dont' even notice while he's doing it, and then one day he's moving out? how is it possible that he wont' always be tiny and fat and cuddly and toothless? how could there be a time when he won't just ride around on my hip all day? I wish I had a Tivo for Stan...