This morning, I found my three-year-old daughter Brontë looking at herself in my bathroom mirror. She had climbed onto the sink and was pulling her lips back to examine the inside of her mouth.
Brontë (feeling her teeth and looking concerned): I need bigger teeth, mommy.
Me: Bigger teeth?
Brontë: Yeah, I need to see the doctor.
Me: The dentist?
Brontë: Yes, the dentist. Need to see the dentist for bigger teeth.
Me: The dentist won’t give you bigger teeth.
Brontë (looking mildly frustrated): Well… MORE teeth, then. Like a shark. I want shark teeth.
Me: You want more teeth? Like a shark?
Brontë: Yeah. Wait… no. I no like sharks, I like mermaids.
Me: You like mermaids better.
Brontë: Yeah, mermaids. My teeth are fine. Never mind.
Looking relieved, Brontë jumped down from the sink and left to go play in her room.
Glad she worked through that issue.