Our local dentist has installed a revolving door dedicated just to my family. We’ve spent an inordinate amount of time in the dental chair in the last few weeks. True. The timing is consistent with our bi-yearly cleaning, and I like to schedule all the children close together so I can keep better track of our dental comings and goings.
It all started a while back when Emme broke a baby tooth. She was told that she had 3 and a half (I miscounted, thinking there were 5 and a half) baby teeth left, and they all needed to come out sooner rather than later. Fiddledaddy offered her $5 per tooth if she would pull them on her own, in lieu of the $100 per tooth that the dentist office wished to charge.
She saw dollar signs and was able to pull 3 teeth in the span of 3 days.
The Tooth Fairy had to write a check.
When Emme went in this last week for her regular cleaning, she was told that the very last baby tooth was beginning to show signs of infection, and that if she didn’t get it out within a week it would have to be pulled. As a parting gift, the dentist sent Emme home with a baggie full of Q-tips dipped in numbing gel. The industrial strength numbing gel. Not your garden variety Baby Orajel type. I secretly wondered if I could just rub it all over my own head.
I upped the ante and offered the child $10 if she would get the infected tooth out herself.
With liberal use of the numbing gel and her father’s tenacious help, she was able to evict it in the span of two days.
Thusly, my 12 year old baby girl has lost every single one of her baby teeth. Sob. Sob.
And the Tooth Fairy had to empty the couches of all spare loose change.
Not to be outdone, when Jensen visited the dentist today (a memorable experience for all concerned) he proudly showed off the fact that he finally lost his first tooth and its neighbor was already loose.
There was some commentary about how my children are a little late blooming in the tooth losing department. I explained that this was my fault, as I didn’t lose my two front teeth until upper elementary.
Imagine my embarrassment as I posed for my 5th grade school photo looking like a prize fighter who had all their teeth knocked out.
Since arriving back home Jensen has been more than a little bit obsessed about his lone loose tooth, which the dentist said was not quite ready to exit his mouth.
She’s evidently never met Jensen before. Who made it his mission to rid himself of the offending tooth right before bed. Unlike the middle sister who has a bad habit of hanging onto her baby teeth until they have turned sidewise in her mouth, flap in the wind when she speaks, and gangrene begins to set in.
She has a hard time parting with anything.
After enduring some pain while trying to extricate the tooth, his face brightened when I reminded him that we still had some baggied industrial strength numbing gel on a Q-tip. Which was then liberally applied. Much drooling ensued along with a distinct speech impediment due to ALL THE NUMB, but he emerged triumphant from the bathroom. Insisting on awakening his sleeping sister to show her the bloody hole.
Never in my whole life have I ever seen 3 children who share the same DNA, be wired so very differently. I now have an entire jewelry box stuffed to the gills with individually labeled and baggied baby teeth to bequeath to each of them as they move out. And I’m quite certain that their respective spouses will appreciate the gesture.
Of course they’ll thank me some day, “I’m sure glad that mom kept all of my baby teeth,” said no child ever.