All She Wants For Chrithmuth . . .
Maddie’s had several loose teeth for
many months now, but after losing one tooth last year the rest have
stubbornly insisted on hanging in there ad infinitum. Three or four
seem to be hanging by a thread, but have hung there, waving in the
wind and taunting us, seemingly untouchable.
It’s gotten so that Maddie has trouble eating most foods; if we get her a taco I have to tear it up into tiny bits because biting into anything is too painful. Maddie occasionally takes a stab at trying to pull one, but for the most part suffers along in relative silence.
Until Wednesday night.
It’s gotten so that Maddie has trouble eating most foods; if we get her a taco I have to tear it up into tiny bits because biting into anything is too painful. Maddie occasionally takes a stab at trying to pull one, but for the most part suffers along in relative silence.
Until Wednesday night.
Apparently she’d had enough, and
that girl sat in the bathroom with a Kleenex and a steely glint of
determination in her eye for about twenty minutes, patiently
wiggling the worst offender, one of her top front teeth. Blood
began flowing, and still she persevered, ready to have the thing
out.
I finally gave up watching the show and went to snuggle Cora in her bed, and as we lay there reading books we heard a shriek from the bathroom, followed by joyful screams. Maddie had conquered that darn tooth and it was OUT!
I came running out to the sight of Maddie grinning wildly, a big bloody hole where the tooth had been. “I did it! I did it!” she shrieked, unable to slow down or stop smiling. She went to sleep on a tooth-conquering high.
Yesterday, though, she woke up with regrets: my girl doesn’t so much love change (wonder where she gets it?) and she kept saying, “I just want my mouth back the way it used to look!” She went despondently to school, refusing to smile for friends.
By the end of the day she’d warmed up to the idea a bit, and had received some serious coaching from friends on what words she should skip until new teeth grow in, how best to chew a Starburst, and other Important Things. So now she’s back to happy and wide-grinned, and all is right with the world.
Except that I can’t look at her now without seeing how much she’s growing up – there’s this big gaping hole I can’t miss no matter where I look.
Can’t she just go back to the way she used to look?
I finally gave up watching the show and went to snuggle Cora in her bed, and as we lay there reading books we heard a shriek from the bathroom, followed by joyful screams. Maddie had conquered that darn tooth and it was OUT!
I came running out to the sight of Maddie grinning wildly, a big bloody hole where the tooth had been. “I did it! I did it!” she shrieked, unable to slow down or stop smiling. She went to sleep on a tooth-conquering high.
Yesterday, though, she woke up with regrets: my girl doesn’t so much love change (wonder where she gets it?) and she kept saying, “I just want my mouth back the way it used to look!” She went despondently to school, refusing to smile for friends.
By the end of the day she’d warmed up to the idea a bit, and had received some serious coaching from friends on what words she should skip until new teeth grow in, how best to chew a Starburst, and other Important Things. So now she’s back to happy and wide-grinned, and all is right with the world.
Except that I can’t look at her now without seeing how much she’s growing up – there’s this big gaping hole I can’t miss no matter where I look.
Can’t she just go back to the way she used to look?
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Mommy Musings
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