London's First Lost Tooth

Milestones.

One after the other.

I guess that's to be expected in a house with eight people.

Living lives that never stay still.

Our most recent milestone --- a loose tooth.

London's.

It's been wiggling down there at the bottom of her mouth for days. Maybe even weeks. (Just another way she is my daughter, a little me. I would let my loose teeth literally dangle by whatever thin thread of tooth stuff was left. I never pulled them. And I never told my mother when they were loose, in case she wanted to pull them. I hated pain. I still do.)

At London's suggestion (and under the probable influence of a television story or a book) Kevin actually tied fishing line to both her tooth and to the handle of a door. Not my idea, I tell you.

The fishing line was attached. The door was shut. London screamed and clasped her hand over her mouth. But all in vain. The fishing line had slipped off and the tooth was still intact. The scream was superfluous.

London began crying. But she wasn't in pain. Kevin told her that we didn't have to pull the tooth right then. We could wait. But apparently that was why she was crying. Through her tears, she said, "But I want to lose my tooth right now. I want it out so I can get money. I just don't know what it will feel like. I don't know if it will hurt."

SuperDad to the rescue. That guy is so clever. I would have said, "Yes, it will hurt a little. Let's do it now or just go to bed. Come on!"

But not Kevin. He whispered something in her ear. Her countenance changed and she scooted off to find her shoes.

After a short absence the little duo reappeared, ready for action. Orajel on the gum. Some kind of pliers from Papaw's fishing supplies in hand. A quick yank! And the tooth was out. Grins all around and a little spit drooling down a proud six year old's numb chin.