A while back I mentioned that my daughter had a loose tooth. Her first loose tooth. I was somewhat emotional about the idea that my baby was growing up. Getting her real teeth was just a reminder to me that they don’t stay young forever and I needed to enjoy what little time I had with her while she was young (before she starts to talk back). I can’t find the post so you will just have to take my word for it.
I thought the tooth would have fallen out by now. It’s been awhile since my son lost his first teeth and a lot longer since I lost any teeth but I recall that once they were loose they came out pretty quickly.
Not my daughter’s tooth. For the last two weeks she has been protecting her tooth from falling out. She has been walking around with her jaw clenched shut. This in and of itself is not such a bad thing. My daughter tends to talk a lot and this has given everyone a little peace and quiet. If it were just that she wasn’t talking I wouldn’t even mention any of this but that is not all that is happening.
For the last week she has refused to eat anything that isn’t soft and cut up into teeny tiny pieces. Since my daughter is deathly afraid of knives that means I have to cut whatever it is we are having. Macaroni and cheese is not soft if you are wondering. PB&J is not soft. Nothing is soft enough for my daughter and her tooth except for the bunny cake we had for Easter dessert. That’s soft enough, though it still needs to be cut up.
Last night I told her she needed to brush her teeth before bed. I expected her to object due to the loose tooth. She did not and skipped merrily into the bathroom to brush her teeth. Within seconds I heard screaming. Screaming that other people, who are not parents, would assume meant a limb had been ripped off in farm equipment. I knew the screaming meant nothing serious but I ran downstairs and asked her what had happened anyway.
Blood was dribbling down her chin. Not a whole lot of blood but mixed with the spit in her mouth it looked a bit shocking if you are a six year old. Her tooth was bleeding. And she was screaming bloody murder.
“Does it hurt?” I asked.
She shook her head “no”
“So why are you crying?” I asked.
She continued to shake her head. She wasn’t going to talk at all in case the tooth fell out.
After I got her calmed down I learned through a mixture of pantomime and charades that she was wiggling her tooth when it started to bleed. I also learned that she is afraid she will look funny with a missing tooth. I tried desperately to explain to her that she could not prevent the tooth from falling out. Everyone loses their baby teeth and everyone looks really cute when it happens. I explained that she could put a straw through it to eat and she could suck spaghetti noodles through it for fun. I told her again about the tooth fairy.
She didn’t care. She does not want this tooth to come out. We aren’t even allowed to talk about the tooth anymore. Not unless we want to hear high pitched screams for several minutes. We are not allowed to look at the tooth either. I know it is hanging by a thread but I have not been able to look to see if the adult tooth is pushing up behind it. The only way she will let anyone look at the tooth is if they sit on their hands and she stands five feet away.
I want this tooth out. Now. I don’t want to hear about it anymore and I am afraid that there are 19 more to go.