I held my daughter up to better see the passing parade. She was still small enough to lift high with my hands and I watched her reaction from below, her joy, growing in the morning light. The colour and noise moved past. “You’re missing it,” I heard someone say. But I had never seen something as beautiful as that; it seemed perfect, her smile looking down at me. My daughter appeared above me again the following morning, though something had changed. Her mouth, blood-streaked, opened to reveal a gap. She had lost her first tooth. We celebrated but I felt something else as well; it all changes from here . I wondered if it was grief. “Do we give this to the toothy fairy ? ” my daughter asked. I couldn’t quite remember. There can be something ridiculous about the ritual; invoking night imps, exchanging cash for body parts. Some parents hoard the teeth in tins or wear them on necklaces.…