Just this past weekend, I pulled out Noah’s first tooth. I got a little sentimental as this was my first baby’s first lost tooth. The tooth fairy came and brought Noah a dollar. All was well with the world.
Then, this past Tuesday, we were in our hectic after work/after school craziness. I was rushing to get the baby fed before I had to go back out to see clients, Matt was scarfing down dinner because he knew he wouldn’t be able to eat while watching both kids, and Noah was running around pretending to be a cheetah. Standard Tuesday night.
Apparently, pretending to be a cheetah involves running around on all fours and picking things up with your teeth. Some of the things that this particular cheetah needed to pick up with his teeth were the throw pillows on the couch.
Also, as a cheetah, when you pick up a throw pillow with your teeth, you must thrash about with the pillow in your mouth.
Naturally, as does happen when you thrash about with a throw pillow in your mouth, the pillow is bound to come loose, fly across the room, and nearly rip out another baby tooth from a 5 year old cheetah’s mouth.
Noah’s crying and holding his mouth, blood dripping everywhere. I put Luke down, and try to get Noah to the bathroom so we can clean up the blood and I can assess the situation. [Noah, however, is too concerned with trying to find a mirror so he can look at all of the blood in his mouth first.] Tooth is still intact, very loose, but intact.
I clean up the blood, Noah rinses his mouth out until the tooth stops bleeding, I give him strict instructions to leave the tooth alone, and I go to work.
The next day, when Noah gets home from school:
NOAH, in a dreary voice: “I pulled my tooth out today.”
ME: “Awesome buddy! Where is it?”
NOAH: “Elijah accidentally knocked it out of my hand.” Still, super sad-sounding.
ME: “Oh no! Did your teacher find it?”
NOAH: “Yes. It’s in this baggy. But I don’t think that’s my tooth.”
Noah hands me the baggy and, inside it, is 2 tiny bits of white plastic. First of all, baby teeth are gross and, especially when they are pulled out early, are bloody on one end. Second, any look at my kid’s mouth full of cavities and silver teeth, would demonstrate that his baby teeth are not pristine white like this tiny bits of plastic.
Turns out, there was a substitute teacher that day. I emailed his actual teacher and she said she would look for Noah’s tooth. Why wouldn’t the substitute just say, “I couldn’t find the tooth”? How, in any situation, is sending home bits of plastic better than telling the truth? And, if she actually thought it was his tooth, what the hell?
I think we may be leaving a note for the tooth fairy tonight. Which is probably not worth a whole dollar.
UPDATE: Noah’s teacher found the tooth behind the play kitchen in the classroom! She even let him call me from her cell phone with the rest of the class on speakerphone and they all cheered. All is right with the world.