A few weeks ago, BigBrother came running into my bedroom first thing in the morning. My arm hung over the bedside as he put his nose up to mine.
“Mommy! I have a loose tooth!” *wiggle, wiggle, wiggle*
Wiggly teeth make me gag. So, I gagged, but I told him that it was exciting.
He was, of course, very excited. And over the course of the past few weeks, he has been wiggle happy.
“Look at it today, Mommy!” *wiggle, wiggle, wiggle*
More gagging. More pretending it was awesome and a great life adventure.
I think my aversion to wiggly teeth comes from my traumatic first tooth loss. I was pushing my imaginary friend on my swing set. What? I lived on a farm in the middle of nowhere and had no siblings. Who was I supposed to play with? Anyway, so there’s five year old me, pushing my imaginary friend on my 1980’s swing set. It had a plastic seat, not like the rubber seats at the playgrounds that we didn’t have in our rural area. The seat was yellow. Or, the seat was yellow until it bashed me in the mouth and became splattered with my red blood. I lost two teeth — front uppers — that day in a bloody, teary, snotty mess. My imaginary friend never even apologized.
Flash forward 24 (almost 25!) years. I would catch him wiggling it with his tongue while I read a book or as he absent-mindedly watched some TV while I cooked dinner. I would have to avert my eyes. When I helped him finish up his tooth-brushing before bed to make sure he got all the crevices and such, I would take a deep breath and just dive in. I thought I would get used to it, that my stomach — which can handle catching vomit in my own two hands — would stop flip-flopping every time he wiggled that darn tooth. Nope. Just like I will never be a firefighter (fear of fire, fear of heights), I will apparently never be a dentist (fear of wiggly teeth).
Of course, it was inevitable that the thing was coming out. It just kept getting wigglier and wigglier. I am thankful that my mother-in-law not only works for a dentist but finds joy in yanking teeth. When FireDad and I came home from our awesome weekend away (come back tomorrow for more on that), BigBrother ran up to us and grinned the grin of a child who was so excited to have lost his first tooth.
Photo Credit: Nina.
Thankfully, I was ready. As soon as he wiggled that tooth in my face that morning, I ordered him a special tooth fairy pillow from Etsy. I remember my Tooth Fairy pillow. It was just a white heart with little yellow rosebuds and a pocket for the tooth. BigBrother is the proud owner of a … you guessed it… Firefighter Tooth Fairy Pillow. The pocket for the tooth? The boots on the tooth’s back. Oh yeah.
The Imagination Boulevard has many other kinds, not just firefighters. Police officer, hunter, cook, pirate, baseball player, angry football player in orange which means he must be a Bengal. They’re freaking adorable. But I’m deeply pleased with the awesome that is this particular Tooth Fairy Pillow. So is BigBrother.
I woke up this morning before the boys and started the (much needed) coffee. I tip-toed into BigBrother’s room and sat on his bed. I rubbed his back for a few minutes and he made his way through his stretching routine as his eyes slowly blinked open. There was a moment of nothing — no movement, no sound — as he stared at me. It was a brief moment. And then the light bulb went off over his head, causing him to jump up, a smile crossing his newly jack-o-lanterned grin. He reached behind his pillow, grabbed out his firefighter Tooth Fairy pillow and jumped off the bed when he found a dollar tucked in the firefighter’s boots.
(I have no photos of this sequence. I could tell you it’s because I wanted to live in the moment. But it’s totally because of the time change throwing me off my game. By the way, did you change the batteries in your smoke detectors? So, pretend this picture are from this morning!)
And so, I have survived his first tooth loss. He looks absolutely adorable — as long as I don’t actually look at the gaping hole in his gum. Then I kind of gag again. It’s a good thing he’s cute. I think the cute overrides my gag reflex. So far. As long as I don’t have to see blood.
Let’s just hope Nina is available every time one of these boys has a very wiggly tooth.