Skylar and the Tooth

Skylar, for all intents and purposes, is generally defined as our cautious, concerned first born. Since her birth, she has proceeded with caution and to this end we should expect little else. Unfortunately, with this trait comes varying degrees of fear and trepedation, depending on the situation. Swimming - major trepedation. Approaching a group of children whom she does not know - anxiety off the scale. Pulling a tooth - well, that is an entire story unto itself.

Skylar's 1st tooth became loose within the final days of the school year. Although the tooth was prepared for self-extraction, Skylar's trepedation and anxiety were such that the tooth remained. And remained. Until one day, amid protestation, Skylar, along with her father (who, being resolved in this effort, was not coming home with a still-toothed child), found herself prostrate and gassed in the dentist chair, poised for extraction. One strong yank of the dental pliers and $165 later, Skylar's first tooth was out, making room for its replacement, already completely in behind it, to find its place in the row.

Yet, the story does not end here. Skylar's 2nd loose tooth came shortly behind the first and so we began anew. This time, there was some wiggling, but the same protests arose. There was much girating on her part and very little progress made with the tooth. For three-some weeks, we pleaded, we argued, we became alternately angry and exasperated, maintaining all the while that we were, under no circumstances, returning the the dental chair for another extraction. It was by definition, a Mexican standoff - a standoff that her father and I were going to win if it took us on a trip to the nut house.

In a last-ditch effort after sharing a meal one evening, I suggested to Skylar that she work on her tooth while she waited for the rest of the family to empty their plates. Surprisingly compliant, she did as I bid, took a clean towel from the kitchen drawer and sat back at the kitchen table to "work on her tooth." I further suggested that she bite down really hard on the towel and then just yank it about a bit in order to loosen the tooth. She did this with amazing zeal I did not know she possesed and as she yanked, the little tooth shot out of her mouth, flew over the table directly at me, hit me in the shoulder and bounced to the floor.

In perfectly poised mommy-speak, I proclaimed, "That was AWESOME!", while Skylar vascillated between excitement and fear of her own blood, which was then slowly spotting the kitchen towel. Finally, she examined her little treasure and placed it into her tooth fairy box, but not before receiving a promise of a prize for such a spectacular self-extraction. Of course, I instantly agreed to her request, she having just saved another trip to the dentist.