In May of 2018, my oldest daughter (Avery) was perfect. Golden-blonde hair, porcelain skin, a three-year-old laugh that brought life to anyone in earshot, and 20 delicate, little baby teeth that lit up her smile like a shining star. And then, a month later, she only had 19 baby teeth and a big gap in the top row (thanks to the antics of a pediatric dentist who shall not be named). You can read about it here, but long story short, it took me a while to adjust. My wife and I made a conscious effort to make it "no big deal" around her, but it's hard to see your first-born angel with even the smallest blemish. Of course, my vanity faded quickly, and she became my perfect little girl once again, but I still reserved some fear that she would be self-conscious about it, or that other kids would make fun of her—at least until losing teeth became the cool thing to do a couple long years later. Well, she didn't develop a complex, and kids didn't make fun of her, and when I came home one day last month, Avery proclaimed, "I have a loose tooth!"
Based on my reaction to her first lost tooth, I had dreaded this moment, but it actually came with unexpected relief. It was finally time to start losing them naturally, and I would no longer have to explain the dentist horror story every time someone asked about that one missing tooth. And so, it was time to do my fatherly duty of extracting the little wiggler. I tried the string-around-the tooth thing, but it failed miserably, especially since Avery cried and writhed the whole time. I tried again, and failed again. So I gave up. And days went by—and then weeks. And then, when I came home from work yet again, Avery proclaimed, "I have another loose tooth!"
Aw, c'mon! Seriously? This situation was getting out of hand, and it was time for me to man up and do something about it. Tomorrow. Or maybe the next day. Another week went by, but I finally woke up one Saturday in a "Git er done" kind of mood, so I put my foot down. And at just the right time, too. Avery had just received a package in the mail (some My Little Ponies that she'd ordered), and she would have pulled out all of her teeth herself if it meant being able to open that box. Of course, as I tried and failed again with that little floss lasso, she started freaking out just like the first time, but she held it together as best as she could… until I went to the drawer and returned with a pair of needle-nose pliers.
Pleas, bargains, tears, snot, slobber, screams, hives, convulsions, overwhelming terror… My Little Ponies be danged, Avery was a mess. I mean, I guess there's a reason for the phrase, "As hard as pulling teeth." Just the idea of someone shoving pliers into my mouth is enough to awaken some pretty dark and nauseating fears, so I guess I should have had more sympathy. I guess my motivational speech should have consisted of more than, "It's just pain. It's no big deal. Just a little pull, some blood, then we're done. Well, with this one. Then we'll get the other one next to it."
But after two failed attempts, the third squeeze and pull popped that little sucker out without a hitch, and only a little blood, and only a moderate amount of blood-curdling screams. And then came the hysterical laughter. A mix of emotions from being "done" but still having one more to pull. "No, I don't want to do the other one yet. Please, no. No, no. I don't want to. Daddy, please, no." Poor thing didn't know what was good for her. She didn't understand that it would be better to get it done right now so she didn't have to worry about it anymore. Good thing she had her dear 'ole dad around to make the smart decisions for her.
Pry open the mouth, block out the screams, grip the base of the lower incisor, and riiiip! Easy as pulling teeth. A little more blood than the first one, but it's not like she'd need a transfusion or anything. No big deal.
And she was done! More crying. More wild laughing, and then came the Ponies. And when she saw those little dolls (Did I forget to mention that they looked like Barbies with tiny mini-skirts, high heels, and trashy make-up? Not innocent little ponies at all. Apparently 21st-century Ponies have the magical ability to transform into hussies anytime they want. God help us. But, anyway…), her hysterical laughter turned maniacal. Like, I thought she was going to find a sharp object in there somewhere and get stabby. And, I mean, her blotchy skin and bloodstained mouth didn't help her case much.
Overall, it was a weird morning—a bit of a whirlwind of emotions. I could have gone about things a little better. I could have let her mommy hold her hand and reassure her more. I could have gone at Avery's pace. I could have used less of a drill sergeant voice. But at that rate, it would have never gotten done. I kept having visions of those kids with adult teeth growing up around their baby teeth, and I knew no daughter of mine was going to grow up with a shark mouth. Not on my watch. So I did what needed to be done. And despite how scared Avery was through the whole thing, there was something inside her (visions of My Little Pony tramps, most likely) that gave her the strength to push through. She didn't clamp her mouth shut. She didn't curl up into a ball and refuse. She protested and pleaded, but she still trusted Daddy and did what had to be done. In short, she was brave.
It's amazing how many forms bravery can take. It's not always a battle cry while you charge forward into the enemy. Sometimes it's a sob while you stand your ground with trembling knees. And in the end, it doesn't matter what it looks like. It matters what the end result is. It matters that a five-year-old girl swallowed her fear (and her blood), and the result was a milestone that I'll never forget. I may not have received the Daddy of the Year award, but I think I did well enough to keep my job for a little while longer.
That forgetful Tooth Fairy, on the other hand (she didn't show up until the second night after Avery put her teeth under her pillow)… Look out lady. Keep up those shenanigans, and they'll give your job to the first available My Little Pony wearing a passable fairy dress.
Baby slept from 8 until 9, vomited on the bed, and now is just up and playing still at midnight. All attempts of making him sleep are met with screams. We're tired.
Typical! Jack has zero teeth for seven months then two appear at the same time! You could juuuust see the second one a few days ago, today it's officially broke through his gums! No wonder he was so crabby last night.
At this rate I'll wake up next week and he'll be smiling at me with a full set of them!
