LIKE MOST YOUNG CHILDREN, my preschool-aged daughter, Jacqueline, usually elicits the same response when people first meet her: "Oh, she's so cute." And I have to admit that I myself have delighted in her cuteness—her heart-shaped face, her blue eyes, her sweet smile. I'd never given much thought to this particular tendency, or to the idea that it might be something to examine. Until the brownie incident.
Jacqueline had gotten up on her little stepstool to help me make brownies, when she apparently lost her footing. The next thing I knew, she was curled up on the floor crying, having hit her mouth on the stool on the way down.
The bleeding stopped fairly quickly, as did the crying, and soon she wanted to go back to baking. After a day or two, her lip had healed up well, and I didn't think anything more of the incident. But a few nights later, after my husband had tucked Jacqueline in for the night, he commented, "One of her front teeth looks pretty dark—like it's dead."
