Losing Teeth . . . Taking Teeth

I remember a story of my father, who is a dentist, pulling some kid's loose tooth at a church party.  As I remember the story, the boy came up to Dad, opened his mouth wide, and proudly showed his wiggly tooth.   And then Dad peered closely at it, and snatched it right out of the boy's mouth before he could flinch away.

Now, in all fairness to my Dad, I don't know how true that story is, though I'm guessing it's pretty close.

That said, I now have a child who begs me to pull her loose teeth.

Tonight's tooth was the second tooth I've pulled.  I already don't remember the first--though Morgan insists that it didn't hurt.

So this is how it went tonight:

Morgan:  "Mom, my tooth really hurts.  It's really annoying--I can't brush my teeth or bite on it.  Could you pull it out for me?"

Me:  "Let me see it."

The tooth is hanging by a thread.  She can wiggle it at least 45 degrees in either direction.   Morgan is handing me a piece of folded toilet paper for the job.

Me:  "All right Morgan.  I'll do it.  Come here."

The next 10 minutes are like cat and mouse.  I move my hand toward her mouth, and she shies backward.  "But Mom," she insists, tears welling in her eyes, "I really do want it pulled.  It's so awful."

Me:  "Well then hold still."

I go for the tooth, but her mouth snaps shut before I even get any part of my hand inside her mouth.

Morgan, eyes closed and mouth open:  "Mom, you make too much noise with that piece of toilet paper.  I know you're going to do it."

Seriously?   The toilet paper is super-soft Charmin' double thick--how could it be too noisy?

Me:  "All right Morgan.  I'm not going to stand here all night trying to get your tooth out.  Come talk to me when you're really ready.  You're welcome to wait until tomorrow."

A few tears later, Morgan was resolved to get that pesky tooth out.  She bravely held still while I pulled that little tooth out--actually pulling isn't really the right word.  I don't know what the tooth was connected to, but it wasn't much.  Pulling the tooth from her mouth didn't feel much different than picking it up off the counter a few minutes later.  Amazingly, tears stopped immediately, despite a little bit of blood.

Me:  "Did it hurt?"

Morgan:  "No.  Thanks Mom."

Me:  "Now I have a real problem.  If it's your tooth, who's going to be the tooth fairy?

If you're new to my blog, this is referring to a recent post, in which Morgan (9) plays tooth fairy for her 6-year-old sister after the tooth fairy forgets to come for multiple nights.