Last night I had to "extract" a tooth from Leah's mouth that was making her gum infected. The dentist told told her on Tuesday that she had to get the tooth out by Friday. If not, he would have to pull it. NOOOOOOOO! She was adamant that she could do it. So Leah, sweet little worrier that she is, spent most of the day Wednesday and Thursday wiggling that stubborn tooth around. Every time I looked at her she was working on that tooth.
It was hard to get out because the infected gum was poking up through the middle of the tooth. That tooth was defiant. It was also making Darren and me crazy. Of course Darren had to do the Dad thing--go get his biggest pair of pliers and say, "Hey, let me get that old tooth out for you. I have just the right tool."
Leah's response: SCREAM BLOODY MURDER. I told her that's just what Dads do, they try to tease you to make you smile. Or scream. My Dad had the biggest pair of pliers on the planet, and he took great joy wielding them around when I had a tooth that needed to come out.
Even Leah's best friend's father, a surgeon no less, had a similar reaction on Wednesday night. He went and got some surgical tools out of his kitchen drawer and said, "I can get that tooth out for you, Leah."
Leah's reaction: Cover her mouth and back out of the room.
Why do all Dads do that?
So, last night we sat at the kitchen table and with a paper towel I just wiggled that tooth around for about 10 minutes it seemed. Leah would wail now and then I would stop. She started coloring a picture to get her mind off the ordeal.
At this point my arm was numb and I had had enough. RIP!
SCREAM. HOWL. MANY TEARS. SOME BLOOD.
"I'm not going to school tomorrow," she sobbed. "It just hurts too bad." I made her a milkshake with crushed up ibuprofen so she wouldn't have to chew the tablets. She said it was gross. It was. Little purple chalk-like pieces floating around.
She said she was going to bed. This morning, she could hardly wake up.
As I like to say, "She was having a bit of a lie in." A term the English say for "sleeping in."
The tooth fairy, after putting his pliers back in the garage, only produced $3. He was flat out of cash, he said. That was sort of a rip off after the ordeal. I will try to make it up to her today.
Mean tooth fairies.
2 comments:
Oh, Ellen, you are such a writer. Feels like this is the first chapter of a book that I really, really want to read. I can her your voice, not just, ya know, Voice, an essential writing trait, but also your actual voice, funny, sarcastic, and gentle all at once. Lovely!
I agree with Tani. This is the start of a book. I insist! I will be the first to buy it!
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