All I Want For Christmas (In July) Is My Two Front Teeth

Last year - as in most years since the wee ones were born, I wonder if there is a coincidence there? - I was late getting my Christmas cards out.  I did get them out before Christmas Eve, which is an improvement, but I'm aiming for better this year.

Couple that with the fact that I've always wanted to have a picture of the wee ones where they're missing their two front teeth (because, really, how adorable is that in a child?), and I'm making progress.  You see, Mister Man lost his front teeth in the spring.  I have pictures of him with no front teeth, but none were for the Christmas card.  I pinned all my hopes on Little Miss.  After all, her birthday is earlier in the year than his, so that would help, right?

Wrong.

Little Miss lost her two front teeth, too, nowhere near the Christmas season.  I see no recourse but to take matters into my own hands.  While I debated simply removing their front teeth permanently, I decided their dentist might not like this, nor would my husband.  And my computer skills aren't sufficient to edit them out of the photo I take in December or maybe November if I'm on the ball.

There was only one solution.

So which one do you think I should put in the Christmas card this year?

Dear Tooth Fairy

It's been a tooth losing week here at our house. Last Thursday, Mister Man tripped over a friend in gym and out popped his tooth. On Saturday, Little Miss called me from my mom's house to announce that her tooth had come out all by itself, Mommy! It just fell out all by itself, and there wasn't even any blood!

The tooth fairy managed to come, but there's a twist now. First Mister Man announced that he was waiting for Thanksgiving to give his tooth to the Tooth Fairy in the hopes that he would get a bonus. I giggled but said nothing. In the end, he decided on his own to put the tooth under his pillow, but he had something extra to add. He wrote a note to the Tooth Fairy.

Let me translate:
Dear Tooth Fairy,
Why do you always give me a quarter? Please write back. PS How big are you? If you don't know, try my poster.

Awww, right? Except that he expected an answer. And our Tooth Fairy does only give a quarter because forty teeth and a child who needs for nothing who already doesn't have a strong respect for the value of a dollar. But how do you explain that to a child? And I do my best not to lie to him... so he received this response in tiny gold bring.

Dear Mister Man,
I give you a quarter as a way to say thank you for the gift of your tooth. Every household has a different amount that they receive. You get a smaller amount because you have lots, need little, and are well loved. Time to move one!

So when Little Miss arrived home Sunday morning, proudly sporting her tooth in a plastic bag because she didn't want to have her tooth taken when she was at Grandma's house, she had a note that she'd written, as well. Her note was of course folded up like a card and had a front and an inside. And yes, her spelling was atrocious, but hey - she's in first grade. Spanish first grade.

Dear Tooth Fairy,
If you don't know, try my growth chart of Hancock Tower. Do you have any fellow tooth fairies? And please don't write mess up my room. And please don't write back in small letters. Thank you. Love, Little Miss

Yeah, I've got precious kids. Who knew the Tooth Fairy was into messing up kids' rooms? (Little Miss claimed that the Tooth Fairy had never done so when questioned, by the way.) There is great fascination about the size of the Tooth Fairy but no answer yet. The response to this note came in tiny letters, too, although in purple ink instead of gold. Little Miss was irritated that the Tooth Fairy didn't follow the instructions of such a great personage as herself. Go fig.

All I have to say is that I really hope no one loses any teeth for a long, long time.

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A Reason To Be Proud

Mister Man is seven, which means that he's well into the process of losing his baby teeth. He's currently without his two front teeth, which means that sadly he won't be able to sing "All I Want for Christmas Is My Two Front Teeth" and give it a special meaning this year. It hasn't been an easy process for him, however.

When his first tooth was loose, he wiggled it but only a little. When I began to feel the adult tooth growing in behind it, we told him it had to come out. As I wasn't anxious to pay the dentist for something Mister Man should be able to do himself, I explained that the tooth fairy doesn't come if the dentist pulls a tooth. And my husband pulled the tooth out one Friday night as I was out to dinner with friends.

When his next tooth came loose, we had the same issue. And my husband again pulled it out. Mister Man was somewhat traumatized by it, and when his top tooth became loose, he wiggled it this time. Unfortunately, he couldn't wiggle it enough, and once again it was time to remove the tooth manually. This time I was in charge, as Mister Man wisely wouldn't let my husband near his mouth. I made a loop with dental floss and put it around his very loose tooth. I pulled both ends, and the tooth popped out with no fuss. We used the same strategy when his next tooth was also loose but wasn't coming out.

I resigned myself to Mister Man's inability to wiggle his teeth - knowing that his sensory issues as part of his autism plays a significant role. Periodically, I've asked him if he has a loose tooth, but it's been pretty quiet on that front.

This week, Mister Man was in my parents' basement helping my dad build his model train. He came thumping up the stairs at a rapid clip, shouting and sobbing, Mommy! Grandma! Mommy! Come quick! I need you! Mommy!

My mom and I looked at each other in dread and dropped what we were doing to head towards him, both wondering where my dad was and what he was doing. As he appeared around the corner, we could see that he was holding his mouth and tears were streaming down his face. Mommy, watch! My tooth is coming out of my mouth. My tooth is coming out right now!

He didn't have a loose tooth. At least, he didn't so far as I knew. Uh-oh. Did he fall in the basement? Did something happen? I could see blood beginning to trickle down his chin, but then his hand popped loose and he triumphantly showed us a tiny little tooth.

The sobbing intensified. His babbling was becoming near unintelligible, which worried me. I eventually began to work out what he was saying. I'm so proud. Mommy, I did it. I got my own tooth out all by myself. I'm so proud. I'm so proud of myself. Look what I did all by myself!

I hugged him and watched the tears fall as he smiled and sobbed at the same time, blood dripping down his face. I was pretty proud of him, too.

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It's All About The Inducements

So Mister Man "lost" his first tooth several weeks ago. He had another tooth that was loose, and he was working on it. I'd explained to him clearly that the needed to get a move on the wiggling of said tooth to ensure we didn't have another incidence of a permanent tooth growing behind the baby tooth. I'm really not into braces (all assurances from Karen, aside, I'm paranoid).

I noticed a week or so ago that I could feel the bump of a tooth starting to form behind it. I gave Mister Man a deadline of this Friday to get the tooth out, or Daddy would have to pull it again. He understood and continued to wiggle.

This afternoon he informed me on the way home from school that the art teacher had good eyes and had spotted a tooth growing behind his baby tooth. He was proud of her eyesight; I simply sighed.

I explained that we needed to hurry up the tooth losing. I tried to cajole him into having Daddy pull it tonight. He was pretty well convinced.

Until, of course, Daddy started feeding his mind with what needed to happen. Then he started freaking out about how he could almost taste the blood in his mouth already. *sigh*

My husband continued to try to talk him into pulling it tonight, but Mister Man was convinced that it would be better tomorrow.

After his shower, I pointed out that he has no school all next week, so if he pulls it tomorrow he won't get his name on the board or tell his friends at school. He wasn't swayed.

Then I brought up Mommy's Special Ice Cream. This would be the ice cream a friend of mine brought back for me from Columbus for my birthday. Of the ice cream from there that I've tried to date, I haven't been willing to share.

I put a deal on the table (literally). One bowl of Mommy's Special Ice Cream from Jeni's in Columbus OH (Wildberry Lavender, which is heavenly btw) if he had Daddy pull his tooth tonight. If not, that offer was off the table, and he wouldn't get Mommy's Special Ice Cream.

He dithered. He couldn't decide. He told me his brain hadn't made its decision yet. He whined a bit, trying to figure out what to do.

In the end though, Mommy knows her boy well. He chose the ice cream.

Daddy pulled the tooth, and he was happy it was done. It wasn't nearly so big a deal as he was making it out to be, he informed me. He literally couldn't sit down to eat his ice cream because he was so excited and happy that he was bouncing up and down.

He called my parents (individually, much to my amusement) and my husband's parents to inform them of the good news. And he also announced that he wasn't going to have the Tooth Fairy visit tonight because he insists on showing his tooth to his grandma and grandpa tomorrow.





But first, he finished every bit of ice cream in that bowl.

And here I thought I was the only one (in the family) where ice cream made it all better.

I Don't Remember It Being This Hard

On June 24, Mister Man went to the dentist (I know this because it was only last week that my insurance finally paid our claim and I got the updated bill from the dentist). The dentist informed my husband that Mister Man had two loose teeth. He was to wiggle them daily.

The loose teeth were news to us, but not too shocking. In fact, when I tried to wiggle then, I could sorta feel one wiggle but not even really the other one.

We encouraged him to wiggle.

He then informed us that he had seven loose teeth.

He didn't. He had two. We reminded him to wiggle.

The tooth got looser, but it still wasn't super loose. I kept up with the wiggle reminders. This week, he informed the receptionist at our chiropractor that he had a loose tooth and showed her.

Oh, look, Mister Man! It even has the new tooth growing in behind it. Cool!

Wait, what? Tooth growing behind it? NOT cool. Visions of hundred dollar bills being funneled to an orthodontist's villa in France flashed through my head. Oh, no. No, we aren't going to need braces because the child didn't wiggle his tooth. If we need braces, we're at least going to have a good reason.

On Thursday, I called the dentist to pay the aforementioned bill and asked how concerned I should be about this latest development. If the tooth isn't out by Monday, I was informed, I should make an appointment for the dentist to pull the tooth.

I didn't want to pay for a goofy dentist appointment to pull a baby tooth either, so the pressure was on Mister Man.

I tried helping him wiggle it, but my fingers are really too big.

I informed him that the tooth fairy doesn't come if the dentist has to pull a tooth. She only comes if the tooth falls out on its own. Something about how the tooth falling out sends a magical call to the tooth fairy to come that night. It's true, you know.

The tooth had to come out. Unfortunately, I had to explain this over the phone to him, as he was at Grandma's all day (long story, don't ask). And of course, Grandma and Grandpa did nothing to further the tooth loosening.

On Friday, he kept wiggling. And unfortunately, I had a lot to do on Friday, so I couldn't help him much (explain why schools schedule institute days for the days when you have the most to do). I could tell that it was getting looser, but it wasn't there.

I had a Girls Night Out Friday night, so at 4:50, I left the house and the wee ones in the care of my husband. I opened my book and promptly forgot about the tooth. Until I got a call from Mister Man about ten minutes later saying he'd lost his tooth!

I was surprised, but happy. Until I heard the story. Daddy took a whack at it. Actually, Daddy took two whacks at it and forced the tooth out. Then he had Mister Man rinse and spit in the sink, which freaked the poor boy out when he spit bright red.

But a lost tooth is a lost tooth, I suppose. If my husband was going to do that, it would have been nice to at least have been home to witness the miracle, but I'm not going to complain.

And yes, the Tooth Fairy did pay a visit that night. She brought her quarter in a fancy black velvet little bag and left it under Mister Man's pillow. You have no idea how excited he was to open it and get a whole quarter.



We still have one loose tooth though. Fortunately, I can't see or feel another tooth erupting behind it or anywhere near it, but that tooth is coming out this week. One way or the other.