¨Do you have any loose teeth?¨ the Fearless One asks me. Her tongue pokes through the hole where her two front teeth used to be.
¨No,¨ I tell her. ¨Mine are all in there tight.¨ Baby M puts his fingers in my mouth, wiggling each of my teeth, making sure.
¨I have a loose tooth!¨ The Smiling One announces, but when she tries to prove it, that tooth just won’t budge.
I hoist The Fearless One up into a tree. The Smiling One, Baby M and I look on in glee, anxiously awaiting the fruit she´s sure to knock loose.
¨Hand me the stick,¨ she asks. She may be little but she´s the one in charge.
We all hold our breath from down below as she stands there in the branches, one bare foot in a crook and the other gripping the trunk. She hangs on and leans out, focused on swinging the old mop handle square into the cluster of small green fruit.
Whack. She did it! It´s raining fruit! The Fearless One stands victorious silhouetted against a leaf-green sky. She smiles, fearless.