Tuesday, 26 March 2013

Thing Two had a wobbly tooth or rather she has several yet specifically one really wobbly one as in to say it's hanging on my will power alone.  She could quite literally push the ruddy thing forwards with her tongue and it would stay there.  She's only ever lost two teeth before, one was a freak trauma when she was a toddler and the other happened at school last year and despite it having been wobblesome for a terribly long time her teacher still reported to us that she was traumatised by it.  When I was a child I couldn't abide wobbly teeth, as soon as they begin to wobble i'd ruthlessly extract it, severing the very root with my nails and yanking.  Even now I lumber wobbly teeth in the same camp as feet, both ghastly and absolutely vile, vile as in the thought makes me nauseous and the sight makes me heave tremendously.

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.


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