Tuesday, 26 March 2013
We've been subtly hinting for at least a week now that she really ought to pull the bugger out, a suggestion that was met with equal measures of horror and disdain. Today however, enough was enough, we brought out the big guns. It's interfering with her eating and she's been worrying her tongue on it frequently becoming increasingly perturbed by it. The Husband issued an ultimatum seeing as she'd spent a good hour or so sulking, whimpering and crying about the blasted thing, if she didn't pull it out by bedtime; he would. Oh the terror. Undiluted abject misery flooded her little face.
I stepped up to the mark, I offered to do it instead. She surprised me and said yes. Arse. Even thinking about it causes me to be sick a little in my mouth. Still, I did it. I pulled the bastard tooth out and blood was shed yet not a tear. Hoorah! Mission accomplished. So she gets a visit from the tooth fairy tonight, I do hope The Husband remembers to wear some wings and me? I want very much to bleach my brain.