Noah called me on the phone a few days ago, screaming with excitement that he finally had his first loose tooth. After watching so many of his cousins and friends show up with gaps in the grins, he was chomping at the bit. Pun intended.
Of all the milestones he’s had, I think this was among the most exciting for me. After all, it’s a dad’s duty to help his kids yank their teeth out.
As I look back in my own memory, I see lots of blood, lots of tears, and lots of terror, all at the hand of my dad.
I will do it differently, I thought. There may be a little blood, but there will be no tears. No terror.
Famous last thoughts, I suppose.
Now, before I get into the tooth yanking, let me just tell you that I was hoping and praying that it would hit “yanking point” while Noah was on my watch. His stepdad and mom taught him to ride a bicycle, and while I thought it was awesome, I’ve secretly been a little bitter ever since. I mean… there are some things that are dad things, right?
The answer is, yes, Dan. You are right.
Anyway, I was really hoping another dad moment didn’t go to the other team on this one, so when at 10:30 (long after I put Noah to bed) he hollered, “Dad, my tooth feels like it’s about to fall out!” I ran in, gave it a wiggle, and immediately demanded his presence in my “office.”
Sidenote: My office is actually my kitchen. Apartment living and all.
So, he came running out to my office. I grabbed a long piece of floss. And… the rest you just have to watch.
Let’s just say that things didn’t go as swimmingly as I had expected. I cut out about seven or eight minutes of the entire ordeal.
We got it out in the end, though.
Dad, turns out you were much better at this than I remember.
Dan Pearce, Single Dad Laughing
PS. Anybody have any good stories or memories of yanking kids’ teeth? And, anybody have any bloody, teary, traumatic memories of their own teeth getting pulled?