I made ice cream last night. Rocky road. Kind of. I guess it’s not really rocky road as much as it is chocolate ice cream with marshmallows. And it’s really good. Ashton, for some reason, says he doesn’t like chocolate. Strange kid. So he didn’t want ice cream tonight with the rest of us. Instead, he wanted a popsicle. I made orange julius a while ago and froze the leftovers in popsicle molds. He was biting into it, complaining about how it made his tooth hurt. I took a look in his mouth and sure enough, he has his first loose tooth! I think the popsicle may have aided in it’s loosening because it’s one of his top teeth and usually the bottom ones go first. This one was also bleeding. He was pretty upset when I told him he had a loose tooth. It took him a while to warm up to the idea, but now he’s excited about the prospect of growing bigger teeth. It’s funny because I’ve never been one to lament the stages he is growing out of. I have so many friends who get sad when their babies grow up. I wasn’t sad to send him to kindergarten. I wasn’t sad when he reached different milestones. I was happy. But lately, it’s kind of bittersweet to see him growing. I love his squishiness that’s now going away. I love his little gappy smile. I’m not ready for a snaggletooth six-year-old. What happened to my four-year-old? I’m not mourning the baby stages, but I really loved the pre-school stages with this guy. It’s fun to watch him grow, but I’ll be sad when he stops saying things like “breakfrixt” (for breakfast) and “goed” (instead of “went”). And I’ll be sad when I can’t squish his chubby cheeks anymore and when those dimpled knuckles lengthen out and turn into kid hands. I’m not sure that I’m ready for that part of growing up yet.