Thursday, February 9, 2012

Loose teeth give me the heebie jeebies.

I can handle all night vomiting, explosive diapers, head wounds, rashes, cleaning out ears, scrubbing toilets, dog messes, and all of the other joys that come with motherhood.  Lovely, yes?

What I can't handle is teeth.  Loose teeth make my innards crinkle and squirm.  I despise them.  So, of course, Breckin's wiggly tooth that has been hanging on for dear life decides to fall out- with a little assistance from his floss- when I'm home alone.  No Daddy to take the reins.  Bleh.  Super bleh.

But, if I show weakness or fear, he may freak out.  I have to act like it's super cool and normal (I know, it is) and a fun time.  We dabbed the little bit of blood, swished with warm water, and now it's waiting for the fairy to show up and take it back to tooth land.  He could have cared less.  He was off to find the neighbor kid to play with as soon as I said he was done.  No ceremony?  No party?  No moment to relish in this famous stage of childhood?  Guess not.  I tried to call Dad to share this moment but it's rush hour and he's driving the van pool.  Hmmm.  Congratulations, buddy.  I think I need a glass of wine.

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