Dear Little –
A little over a month ago, we were in SF (which was on fire) visiting Auntie Sip and Uncle Doug where you celebrated your 6th birthday. They put together a cute little birthday party for you but you were too sick to even eat any of your birthday cake. The next day, we boarded a flight to Seattle (also on fire) so we could see Uncle Ben and Auntie Kate’s wedding ceremony at Fort Warden…and you yacked all over the aircraft.
So, yeah. You were ill. Sorry about that.
I was personally ticked off when the attendant showed up after you vomited all over the plane with two tiny bottles of vodka. I thought one for me, one for your dad, what a nice way to offer a bit of an assist in an otherwise unpleasant experience. Thanks, Delta! That was until the attendant informed us that this was going to be used to clean the seats because they were out of rubbing alcohol.
I had to tell him to NOT rub you down in vodka, not even to clean you off because I could see where that would backfire later in our day. Explaining to security, the cops, or Child Protective Services why you are covered in vomit and smell like a bar was not going to make an already long travel day go any smoother. Plus, jail isn’t on my bucket list. We settled instead to just change your clothes and do our best with paper towels and a hand dryer in terminal A after landing.
After a few days, you started to recover! Relieved, excited, and feeling SO badly that you couldn’t have cake, Daddy and I took you to get a cake pop around the corner. How could a cake pop go wrong? It can’t.
Hopped up on sugar, no sleep and post-ill kid hyperdrive, you started skipping down the street, and promptly fell on your face.
We checked your teeth, your nose, your forehead – all of it. Everything looked fine. But for the next few days you seemed off. Well, concussions do that to a kid, so does a 3 hour time change, so we just figured you’d be fine. Eventually.
However, getting back to Boston you kept saying your teeth hurt. You’re 6, your teeth are supposed to come out soon, so maybe the tooth fairy was going to visit soon! How exciting! By Tuesday, five days after your faceplant, you stopped eating food because “food hurts.”
That’s not good.
I looked in your mouth and noticed the front of your teeth, where we looked before was still fine. But behind your front teeth, I thought I saw a crack.
Dentist confirmed – a cracked tooth.
We thought, “Perhaps this will just be a quick glue job.”
We thought wrong. Kiddo, when you go for it, you REALLY go for it, and usually, that would be the thing we encourage. Live your best life! Be your best self! Don’t half-ass something when you can whole-ass it. You know, give it 100%.
But when it comes to fracturing teeth, you get the gold star. You didn’t just crack the tooth. you cracked BEHIND the tooth and all the way through the root. I don’t even know how you did it.
So here we are, you on the precipice of losing your first tooth. Most kids go through a wiggly phase, push the teeth with their tongues, and anticipate for a few weeks about the loot the tooth fairy would leave as a present under the pillow, maybe figure out how to game the system so they could catch her (or him – it’s 2018) in the act.
But you are so, so good at fracturing teeth, I had to hold you down while you got not one, but TWO shots of novocaine and a set of pliers to yank a fully rooted baby tooth out of your skull.
Fun Fact: as the adult tooth comes down to push over a period of months, it rubs the root of the baby tooth down, which makes it wiggly. The baby tooth is a tiny little nugget that kids can put under their pillow.
If, however, you fracture a baby tooth that is by all x-ray evidence a year from an adult tooth coming down to wear down the root, you get this fodder for nightmares:
Girrrrrrl, this came out of your face. Took a few yanks of the pliers. That black line is the fractured root. This whole thing was the length from the tip of my index finger to the first joint.
Suffice it to say, as far as you are concerned, the tooth fairy “myth” is something your parents say when they take you to the dentist, give you several painful shots and use tools found under the sink to forcibly yank a bone from your jaw.
You think the tooth fairy is a sadist.
Had this been your second tooth and you had a normal experience, I wouldn’t be as worried, but Kiddo, we have another … what, 36 teeth* to lose?
*I’m a dog trainer, not a dentist. I have NO idea how many teeth are in a kids’ head, and I’m too lazy to look on Google despite typing this on a laptop connected to the Internet.
You seem to know as a concept that this is unusual (or as you currently say, “Unuthual”) but I’m not convinced every time you have a wiggly tooth, you’ll have a flashback to that time all of this happened. Time will tell.
You are so cute, with or without a full set of teeth. I am sad though that I will never see all your baby teeth again.
I can say this – the next time there is a lost tooth, I’m pretty sure she/he won’t have a large bill handy. That might have been a one-time sympathy trauma transaction. I think that was also a fluke, and coincidently, the exact same amount of money your father happened to have in his wallet after our trip and short notice.