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Snaggle Toothed Story
My daughter was a
Christmas baby. By Easter she was teething. I'll never forget that
Easter day 1996. I think it was one of the longest days of my life.
Nothing soothed her swollen gums. She cried. I rocked. She cried. I
medicated. She cried. I walked. Then we drove down country roads
frightening all the little Easter bunnies. Finally the energy she
expelled in screaming for what seemed like five days must have worn her
out. She fell asleep. I pulled into the yard and parked the car where
the sun would keep us warm. Blessed peace. Her sweet face in slumber
made me smile even though my head was throbbing.
I've often thought teething must be a terrible aggravation for an
infant. I know it was to this adult. Along with sympathy and the feeling
of not being able to make everything better, came physical pains. I'm
talking about the pains that start at the base of a parent's neck and
shoot out through eye sockets like lightning bolts that zap you hard on
both cheeks before jumping back in and sending erratic shock waves to
temples.

My daughter, now a kindergartner, and I suffered through some hard days
trying to get those blinding white porcelain beauties to burst through
what must have been gums of reinforced steel. But I guess those folks at
my daughter's school didn't know exactly what we'd been through. That
may have been why they stared so intensely last week when they saw my
daughter and I on all fours scouring the dirt, grass, and rocks for the
tooth pulled at school that day.

"Mommmmmm, I lost my tooth."
"Well you sure did."
"No, mom. I really lost my tooth. I can't find it anywhere. It fell out
of my book bag and this second grade boy kicked it out the bus door."
"Oh. Where was the bus door when this happened?"
"It was at school. We were on our way home today."
Well, of course, we have to go to the school to find this rite of
passage so we can place it under her pillow for the tooth fairy. Right?
How hard could it be to find this well-cared-for bright white porcelain
beauty in four acres of grass and dirt?
Yes, I'm one of them. My cup is
always half-full. We have to pick her brother up from football practice
anyway, so we head out early in high hopes of bringing the tooth fairy
her due.
When we arrive at the school, my daughter runs in front of me to the
bus stop. She surveys the sight trying to decide the exact spot the bus
was parked earlier that afternoon. She picks out about three possible
locations.
The loading area is not paved so we first look in the sand. There must
be 100 tiny rocks in the small area we are searching. All the rocks in
the orange loose sand of ruts have been run over thousands of times by
incoming and outgoing buses. Most of the rocks are just the size of a
baby tooth.
While I was losing hope we'd actually find the original tooth, I
thought I might be able to keep the tears at bay when I came upon a rock
that looked for the world like a tooth. The only difference was it had
an orange tone.
"Look honey, is this it?"
"Yes mommy. I think it is."

A little girl a few years older than my kindergartner came to see what
we were doing. The two girls discussed the situation then began another
search. I thought it must be a fun game, thinking my daughter had been
appeased with the rock tooth in my pocket. Then I overheard a whispered
conversation.
"Mommy thinks she found the tooth. It's in her pocket. Please don't
tell mommy if she tries to show it to you -- but it's really a rock."
I told them to have fun playing and walked to the teacher's bench,
thinking about my little girl trying to spare my feelings while I tried
to spare hers. It was a most pleasant and enlightening moment. It was a
keeper.
On the way home, my daughter and I came clean with each other about the
rock tooth and decided to write the tooth fairy a note explaining the
events leading to the unfortunate loss. We discussed how we hoped the
fairy would understand that mistakes sometimes happen. My daughter said
she sure hated to tell the tooth fairy she lost the tooth, but guessed a
note would be okay.
It's funny how life just works out sometimes -- even when you've
accepted that you've lost your tooth and have to explain all that to a
beautiful fairy. When we arrived home and checked the messages my
daughter's face lit up at just about the wattage that I previously
ascribed to the tooth. Here's what was on my answering machine.
"Hello… This is Ms. Debbie. I taught you in my pre-school last year.
Remember? My little girl was just about to do her spelling lesson for
tonight…and guess what!!!! When she opened her spelling book -- a very
white baby tooth fell out. She described a little girl to me who sat
with her on the bus today. I thought about you. Sweetie, if you lost a
tooth today, just give me a call. I'll keep it safe until you can come
and get it."

My daughter and I placed the white porcelain beauty under her pillow
the next night.
Her snaggle-toothed smile the next morning was another
keeper.
Snaggle Toothed Story by, Vyvyan Lynn
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