Friday, April 22, 2011
Going to the Prom With No Teeth
My mother used to say Dylan was going to go to the Prom with no teeth.
When he was a baby, in those first few months all other mother's I knew were dealing with the misery of teething children, my kid sat there like an 80 year old Redneck. Drooling all over himself and all gums.
I assumed of course he WAS teething based off the occasional irritability and excessive drooling and offered all the normal remedies that were told to me by every pseudo-experienced parent I came into contact with. Baby Tylenol, Baby Motrin, Baby Oragel, Hylands Teething Tablets.
I let him suck on frozen wash clothes and cool teething rings. I promoted his inner carnivore and had him gnawing on plasticy animal shaped objects that were touting ways to "Soothe your babies pain". I mean, I was sure any minute now from that 3 month old mark that teeth were on their way.
That one day I would wake and there would be a sliver of bright white gleaming through his poor ripped open gums.
I waited and counted the months. They all went by uneventful. I felt fairly odd as I would stick my finger in his mouth, running it along the smooth, drool covered ridge that was his gums, and walk away disappointed. No excitement yet of jotting down that momentous occasion in his baby book. (Which, by the time he was nearing his first year I completely slacked on and his poor book had many, many empty pages but I digress)
As he neared a year, literally, a tooth finally emerged. He was 11 months old when his first tooth popped up. 11 months old.
Kid must have gums of steel or something, but there it was finally. After that initial brave little tooth made it's premier, the rest followed suit. Slowly but surely.
So now I feel like I am back in that same saddle again, only this time I sit and listen (or moreover read via Facebook updates) to everyone I know with kids in the 5+ range sharing their stories of tooth loss. "So and So lost their first tooth!" or "Guess the Tooth Fairy is coming tonight!"
Screw you guys.
Dylan, now almost 7 (how this is possible I have no idea, as I am still in denial he is getting this old) has yet to lose a tooth. Doesn't even have a slight glint of a wiggly one. Nothing.
I mean, he has had dentist appointments, one's that had given me hope that someday soon I may get to try my hand at the whole Tooth Fairy thing. I mean, who doesn't want to add yet another Mythical Creature of splendor and wonderment to their Mom Resume?
They said there was a "slight wiggle" in one of those bottom teeth. Those stubborn little bastards that took 11 months to show themselves to the world. I got a feeling of excitement. He'd soon join the ranks of the toothless adorableness that came with losing teeth as a child. (Much different from the toothlessness of creepy old people who remove them and put them in jars beside their beds). Cute little gappy grins that made people "Awww".
Again, like a jackass, I would make him come over to me, open his mouth as I stuck my fingers in to attempt to "search" for the supposed wiggly tooth. I have no idea what sort of optical illusions these dentists were under, but I got nothing. Not even the slightest movement as I nudged my finger back and forth over his now sharp little pearly whites. (Him complaining the entire time of course.)
I mean sure I should be grateful that I am not getting sucked in too early to the whole Tooth Fairy thing, with inflation over the years and competition from what I hear from friends and the kids at his school he'd be in for some major bucks under his pillow, but I want that milestone. I too want to over-share my excitement on Facebook.
So my mother once thought he'd go to the Prom with no teeth, but now I am thinking that maybe that's when he'll finally get himself a loose tooth.