Shef came running into our bedroom the other day, shaking Dan awake.

"I have a loose tooth!" he whispered urgently.

He's six-and-three-quarters, and he's been waiting intently for this moment.

Seconds later, he burst through the bathroom door to give me the news. I took a break from brushing my teeth to hug him in celebration.

Later at breakfast, I asked him to show me the wiggle. "Here," I said, reaching my index finger toward his lips. "Let me feel."

"MOM," he scolded, stepping back. "I don't want you sticking your finger in my mouth."

I guess that's fair. He blogged about The Wiggle here.