Last week I had my first run in with the tooth fairy and I should kick her glitter butt from here to never-never-again-land.
Wait, back up.
A few weeks ago I reported to all my facebook friend’s that Kat was loosing her first baby tooth. *sob sob* another milestone *sob* what’s a friggin milestone and why can’t we change it to a kilometresign? *sob*
Lot’s of nice suggestions on how to get the wiggle tooth all the way out but the problem was no amount of wiggling was making a difference. Even watching The Wiggles while wiggling the tooth didn’t wiggle it out. In twitter terms that’s a #wigglefail.
All the while a massive white pointer that was literally white and pointy, was poking up from the fluidy pink recess behind Kat’s bottom teeth. Soon it was too large to be ignored. My daughter was growing in her adult teeth behind her baby teeth. She would have two rows of teeth and they would call her “shark girl”.
Deciding on a dentist is hard work too. I’m not a big fan of dentists, they tend to come at you while you’re wide awake with metal instruments and try and stick them in your mouth. It is barbaric. I don’t care how shiny those metal tools are.
A dentist was finally chosen with a website that smacked of unnecessary luxuries like the possibility of a cappuccino while you waited on red velvet lounges and could be entertained by a multimedia collection of your choosing while being massaged by Arabian monks.
Unfortunately cross referencing Saint Smiley Dentist with my insurance company revealed no joy. Kat would be booked into the local dentist/medical centre that boasted a 6inch plasma on the wall and free water.
Walking into that clinic for the first time was like walking into a familiar nightmare. I think parents have to be so brave for the sake of their children and it sux. There I said it.
“This is going to be fun Kat, you wait til you see all the um, fun stuff that the dentist will show you.”
Fortunately for both of us the dentist we lucked in with was lovely as was her assistant. They gave Kat some funky pink and purple sunglasses so she couldn’t really see the shiny steely metal implements of doom coming towards her mouth. These were not mentioned on the features list for this dentist and clearly should’ve been as Kat thought they were great.
So as her pleasure at her new look continued unabated I was told by the dentist in no uncertain terms that Kat’s teeth were coming in too early and would need to be pulled out one by one if her jaw growth didn’t catch up. Lovely dentist lady was quickly turning into Madam Dentist of Doom.
“So my daughter eats meat off the bone and chews leather boots for breakfast – of course she needs her adult teeth now and not 2 years from now. Can’t you accommodate that without pulling her teeth out???”
Apparently not. So my sweet girl had her first needle in the gum and plier pull. To her credit and my absolute amazement she didn’t cry/flinch or even declare that she hated me forever and would never go back to a dentist. In fact, she happily chatted through the whole procedure. Oblivious to the cruel manipulations going on in her tiny mouth.
“Here you go darling. I’ll put this in a little bag for you to take home to give to the toothfairy” – Dentist Doom says. Great now I have to contend with a fairy on top of nearly passing out when I saw you go in for the pull.
The excitement complemented with a kids magazine and a milkshake and a balloon or two, by bedtime the high fell quickly into a dead sleep. This also allowed that naughty fairy to come and take Kat’s tooth. Three x $1 coins all shiny and gold (to overset those shiny silver dentist tools) were left in a special tooth fairy pillow. And a very over excited and milestone marking fairy sprinkled her golden glitter all over the pillow too. Magic happens right?
Oh the heady magic of midnight activities.
So my first run in with the tooth fairy ended in the cool white light of morning reflecting off every piece of glitter that had “magically” spread from the tooth pillow into Kat’s hair, onto her sheets, all over the floor, right through the house, up into our bed and into my hair and David’s too.
Of course the bouncing giggling toothless grin of our four year old,
holding her bounty and the glitter coated tooth pillow was probably worth it all… but never never again.
