For the past 2 months, Maddie has had a loose tooth. And over those two months it has managed to become very, very loose. She now looks like Nanny McPhee …
Only without the cape.
I’ve made numerous attempts to get her to pull this tooth.
Threatened offered to pull it myself. She is just not having it. She purses her lips like little vice grips. Refusing, possibly unable to, open up. I have no clue why she’s developed this unnatural fear of pulling THIS tooth. She’s lost others, without incident that I recall. But THIS tooth. Good Lord! The thought of pulling THIS tooth has her paralyzed with fear. Seriously. Like she actually tenses up to the point of joints becoming white. She cries, she gags. It’s a very healthy situation.
She knows this fear is unfounded. Yet, she can’t seem to shake the feeling that when THIS tooth comes out, that so much blood will be let that a transfusion will be inevitable. Clearly it was time for an intervention.
Several nights ago, after she got out of the shower I took one look at her tooth that, by now, I could see the top edge of … like the part that should be up in her gums … yeah, I could see that part y’all. I made a decision, “Maddie, that tooth has to come out. Tonight.”
These maybe were the words that flipped the switch that immediately caused wailing & the gnashing of teeth & the tearing of hair. I hadn’t gotten that memo.
I managed to calm her down with
bribery motherly trickery wiles, but was unrelenting in my mission. The tooth was coming out.
So, 20 minutes later, after some tears & several false puking episodes, I continued to encourage her. “Ok sweetie. You’re doing great. So, that’s it, just take that washcloth and PULL! What? Ok, well throw up & let’s get back to it. PULL! Blow your nose, dry your eyes and PULL!” [I’m very empathetic like that]. At this point, I was pretty sure that she was merely hovering around the tooth & not actually touching it, because let’s be honest people, a tooth that loose would have fallen out 20 minutes ago if she’d actually touched it.
I made one final
threat attempt, “If you don’t get that tooth out, I will.” Ah, hell. She was not about to let that happen. So she turns her back to me & looks into the bathroom mirror. She authoritatively took hold of that tooth with the washcloth and made like she was about to pull. This is when I became BRILLIANT! I would reach around from behind & pull on the washcloth at the same time she did, thereby ‘assisting’ her with said tooth removal. So I did.
:::tink tink tink tink tink::: we heard in the sink
:::tink tink tink tink tink::: on the floor
Hmmmm? It must’ve swirled around & flew out of the sink. But in any case, YAY! It’s out! Sweet victory!
She turns towards me. Mouth agape. Grinning.
Um, yeah, only, the Nanny McPhee tooth was still there[???] And if it’s still there, then wha …?
This is when she pulled down her lip, to reveal two cavernous, bloody holes ON THE BOTTOM!
Right then, and I’m not even kidding you, my whole brain popped out of my head, landed on the bathroom floor and bounced around like a super ball.
Self: “Oh, jeez Maddie! I am sooooo sorry!”
Maddie: “MOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! Those weren’t even looooooooose!”
Self: “Oh, sure they were. Remember, you showed me the other day at the bus stop.”
Maddie: “Can I go to bed now?”
Self: “Well don’t you want to get that other … oh, no, of course you don’t. Sure, honey. You can go to bed.”
Maddie: :::walking away mumbling::: “I’m calling 555-beat.a.kid tomorrow”
[Update: Maddie actually wound up thanking me, on account of they have a chart in her class that you get to write your name on every time you lose a tooth and up until then, she had been 2nd to last in terms of how many teeth she’d lost. Now she’s right up there with the majority. She couldn’t have been more excited to finally be average!] You’re welcome, sweetie. You’re welcome.