I can read a detailed
autopsy report at work as I savour my lunch, but I have a difficult time
dealing with the first “rite of passage” for children: loosing teeth.
During a reading exercise at
school one day, the kids were asked how many teeth they had lost. Most had lost
more than 3, some 3, a few had lost 2…and then there was Nathan at 0. He was
upset. He felt like he didn’t fit in.
We were all happy when his
bottom two teeth started to wiggle…until I felt them. As soon as I could feel
and see them wiggle, shivers went down my spine. I don’t know why I find it so
gross, but it literally makes me cringe
every time I see them move.
They wiggled for a long
time. I thought they’d never come out, until…
We invited Grandma and
Grandpa over for a sushi dinner one night. Nathan was chewing his first California roll of the
meal when he started complaining, “RRR Mm Mmrrmr Rrmrm RRmmM!!!!” (which is
roll-speak for “Ow, my tooth is sore”). I looked at him and he’s got blood
dripping out of his mouth, and one of his loose teeth is sticking out parallel
to the table.
I wanted to vomit.
He spat out the roll (let’s stop
for a moment and mourn the waste of sushi), and asked me for help, with his tooth pointing right at me. No
way I’m dealing with that. Daddy guts fish, HE can help. Off they went to the
bathroom allowing me to try and regain my appetite.
Seconds later, I hear Colin
offering congratulatory praise to Nathan. I knew this meant he’d lost his first
tooth! YAY! I was so excited for him, and so proud!
Everyone cheered for him,
and I asked him to show me his tooth as soon as he got back to the table. He
offered his open hand with a yellowy piece of bone covered in blood.
My eyes widen, as I stare at
this piece of hazardous waste that used to be part of my child. I put down my
chopsticks, as I won’t need them for a while.
As I’m staring, I’m wondering
if it would be discourteous if I don’t touch it. Then he asks, “Something
tastes funny. Is my mouth bleeding?”
I looked up to see this deep
socket, emptied of everything except the steady stream of blood oozing from it,
covering his gums and bottom lip.
“Yup, buddy. You’re bleeding
a bit”, I said calmly as I willed the valves in my stomach to remain closed.
He was much too excited to
eat anymore (plus, it would have tasted like blood anyway). Usually I’d be
happy because that means more sushi for me, but this time, I didn’t know if I my
appetite would allow me to salvage the rest of my meal.
As it was nearing bedtime, I
realized we’d never talked about the “tooth fairy” bit before. I asked him if
he’d heard about the tooth fairy at school. He asked me, “Mommy, the tooth
fairy isn’t real…is it?”
“Nope. I am the tooth fairy. I’ve heard that some of your friends got $5
for losing their first tooth. But I’m telling you now so you’re not
disappointed in the morning…it’s $2 for the first and $1 for the rest”.
Yah, yah, call me a fun
killer. And I’m sorry if Nathan told your kids. But at least I still put on
fairy wings when I stole the Ziploc bag from under his pillow.
