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March 11, 2011

Gappy-Tooth Gwenny

Seems like I should create a whole new catagory just for Gwen and her various dental issues.  Not that she has anything incredibly aggregious going on in her mouth but because I seem most inclined to blog about the little bit of excitement that does go on in there.  I'm sure I can't top the Lego Stuck On Tooth post of last year but here's a little pic and a brief update anyway.

Gwen cluster frames missing tooth

Yesterday, Gwen's baby tooth was finally loose enough for her to yank out.    It was loose for several weeks but for the last two days, it was twisted grotesquely sideways and hanging on by just a tiny flap of something.   It was obviously uncomfortable but she was excited about it and insisted on showing me how close it was to coming out.  She'd say, "Look Mommy!" and push the tooth sideways with her finger and it would easily swing 90 degrees on it's fleshy hinge before meeting resistance.  Then she'd push it a bit further and wince in pain while I offered a congratulatory smile and a pat on the head and fought back the urge to puke.

I can handle most childhood medical emergencies:  febrile seizures, major knee and elbow scrapes, gaping flesh wounds that require stitches, even situations involving homemade fireworks that explode in my 12 year old son's face.  I can deal with all that but I can't handle loose teeth.   Nope.  Can't do it.  There's something about the way they squeak when you wiggle them.  The way they feel like a foreign object in your mouth that you just can't keep your tongue away from.  Arrrrggghh!  It's a childhood memory that I'd be happy to forget!

My brother is a year an a half older than I am so, by the time I started losing my own baby teeth, I had a pretty good idea about how our (usually compassionate and kind) mother would deal with it.  In other words, I'd already suffered the trauma of watching her "help" him.    

I've seen a noose made of sewing thread placed around a loose tooth with the other end tied to a doorknob.  Mom would slam the door and out the tooth would come.   It might have been fast and efficient but it freaked me the hell out and it must have freaked out my brother too because he eventually started to approach her more cautiously when she sweetly said "Come here and let me see how loose that tooth is."  Of course, his trepidation only served to make her more creative.  

I remember seeing my brother running down our driveway with his loose tooth tied to the bumper of our 1965 black Plymouth Valiant.    The image of a six year old boy with a crew cut and wild eyes running as fast as he could behind our family car (in a futile attempt to keep slack in the thread) is forever etched in my mind.  I kid you not.

Well, anyway, I'm happy to report that Gwen pulled her own tooth and spared her Momma all that emotional angst.  That alone is worth the two shiny quarters the Tooth Fairy left under her pillow this morning!


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