Friday, November 6, 2009

He's Missing Something

Carl has been waiting very patiently to lose a tooth. Most of his friends at school have lost a tooth or two, some even a whole mouth full. He waits, he wiggles, nothing happens. Until this week.
Carl's front tooth was bumped or knocked a few years back, we're not sure quite when, but know that it was the result of a fun, boy romp with his brother or cousin. The tooth turned brownish-grey and did nothing. The dentist assured us that this greyness was normal, that it happens to most boys at some point in their childhood. Fast forward to November 2009 and one day he informs me, "Mom, my front tooth is leaking some sort of liquid down the back and into my mouth." Hmmm, that's not the sort of thing I ever expected to hear as a mom. We kept our eye on it for a few days and knew it was time to head to the dentist when overnight a little puffy bump appeared above the tooth. Off to the dentist we went, knowing in my mind that most likely the infection would mean that the tooth would have to be pulled. Where in my training manual for how-to-be-a-good-mom was this listed?
I went for it. "Hey Carl, you know how most of your friends have lost a tooth? Wiggly, knocked out or something?" I went on to explain how cool it would be to actually lose the top tooth first, instead of the regular way his friends had lost the bottom row first.
He took it and ran. "Yeah, mom... if they take out my tooth today then the tooth fairy could come tomorrow and I could get a silver dollar and then tell all my friends about how brave I was at the dentist."
The dentist agreed that the tooth would have to come out. The laughing gas, the novocaine, the pliers... he was fine with it all. He was most impressed with the cool little green box that they sent his tooth home in, even cooler than the small yellow envelopes that teachers have in their desks for the same reason. Not even a moan or a wince, he was fine.
I, on the other hand, tried to be brave but just couldn't do it. Since I love medical procedures and body stuff so much, I wanted to sit next to him and watch, listen to the dentist chatter on about the procedure, to really feel the moment. When I began to feel a bit woozy, I knew it was time to step away. My head felt cloudy, my hearing was muffled, the lights dimmed. What? Why was my body betraying my interests? I stepped away, took a seat and watched in awe of my little baby-turned six year old boy as he lost his very first tooth.

1 comment:

Tiff said...

aww, Carl! I feel your pain...I went with Hayden a few weeks ago when he had FIVE teeth pulled at once.