My Three Sons.

Once upon a time, just this past Sunday morning, as Daddy & Mommy sat bleared-eyed at the kitchen table sipping away at their life giving cups 'o joes and trying to wipe the sleep from their eyes, the two largest hoolies were just waking up in their own special way one room over, as well.

Meaning...what began as them just sitting quietly on the couch turned into a full-blown wrestling match with all sorts and sundry toys flying besides.

This was the outcome:

Of course.

Not only an adult tooth, but the one in the very front...broken clean off with the pink nerves exposed.  And on a Sunday.  Pure awesomeness.

This was the culprit:

Thrown by Sir Jester himself...whom I might add...still has all of his baby teeth...not saying I would choose a certain hooligan to have this happen to, if I could.....but I might... if they still had all of their baby teeth...and if they were the ones who threw said toy in the first place.  But, I'm not saying I would.
But I might...
I was slightly devastated.

I am well aware that there are far more horrific things that can happen to our children, so I kept it in perspective - it's "just a tooth"...it's not an eye...or cancer...or a heart problem, or anything like that.  It's honestly no big deal.  But teeth have kind of always been my thing.  Well, teeth and eyes.  I am always telling the boys that we only have one set of eyes and only one set of adult teeth.  We have to take good care of them.  We have to be careful.   And ironically, the one who is most careful was the one who now has a false tooth at the ripe old age of eight.

 But, again, perspective, right?
And honestly, with three crazy hoolies, I'm kind of impressed with our track record.
Eight years of boys, and this is our very first honest to goodness accident.
Not bad, I guess.

And nothing a big old, white floured, full-fat veggy cream cheese layered high bagel with a big ole cup of high test coffee wouldn't fix...

Perspective, right?