Seven is a big number in our house right now.
Hannah, at the time of this writing, has lost seven teeth. The first two "shark teeth" came out in December 2008. Numbers three and four spent months doing some dramatic wiggling and shifting into new positions before coming out with very little drama (except that we accidentally threw out #3 - oops). Number five was assisted out by Max (when he happened to kick her in the face - don't worry, all okay). Six fell out at a playdate, and seven happened at after school care yesterday. I'm a bit worried that the dentist won't have anything to look at when she has her next appointment, but also hopeful that her mouth won't be a mess of gaps at Julie's wedding next summer.
Meanwhile, Max is repeating practically everything that we say. Or rather, he's repeating the last syllable or so. Therefore, guitar becomes "tar" and we'll hear "gofen" when he means to be saying the Hebrew prayer over wine. But the funniest version of this trick is the silly screaming of "seven!" For those locals out there, that would be the end of the jingle we hear quite often in our car: "Magic one-oh-six-point-SEVEN!" Max has impeccable timing when he hears it and chimes in with that final number, but he'll bust out a "seven!" at other moments too, seemingly to lighten the mood. So, SEVEN!