Posts Tagged ‘Teeth’

Viking versus Valkyrie

So I had Mark at the dentist on Tuesday.

Dentist:  “Those two top teeth are loose.  Encourage him to wiggle them.  They need to come out.”

Bet she didn’t mean for them to come out the way they ended up doing so…

I’m on my way to a meeting last night.  My cell phone rings.

Brian:  “Were Mark’s two front teeth baby teeth?  I hope.”

Me:  “WERE?”

Brian:  “They’re gone.”

Me (I’d left the house a mere 10 minutes earlier):  “WHAT HAPPENED?”

What happened was, Mark and Kate were playing in the basement.  They got this idea to play tug-of-war.  And then Mark got the idea to hold the rope in his teeth.

Next tug…POP!  Kate yanks both front teeth out.

Which Brian only learns because of their frantic, furtive conversation about whether they should tell anyone.  “There’s blood.”  “Not that much.”  “They’ll notice.”  “I dunno.  Maybe.”

Let’s just recap, shall we?  Mark gets BOTH FRONT TEETH jerked out by a rope and there’s no shrieks of pain, no bloodcurdling howls of distress.  Just a conversation about whether they have to ‘fess up.  Good lord.  I know I’m living in the wrong century.  But this kid is too.  Of the four teeth he’s lost so far, only one has exited the premises in anything like the normal fashion.

Kate tried hard to pretend she had a minor role in this whole affair, but remember, she helped him break his arm three years ago, so we know better than to believe it.

UPDATE:  I was wrong.  Mark has lost four teeth–NONE of them in the normal manner.  I was talking to Brian and he reminded me about the one Mark knocked out on the TV cupboard whilst playing Wii.  So that’s 1 due to exuberant video gaming,  2 courtesy of his sister, and 1 yanked out by me.

When he showed me his first loose tooth, I foolishly offered (as grown-ups do in a lame jokey way), “Whoa!  That’s really loose!  Want me to pull that out for ya?”

Mark:  “YES.”

Me:  “I was kidding.”

Mark:  “No, really, I want you to pull it out.”

Me (hesitantly getting a napkin):  “Well…okay…we’ll try.”  I give it a pull and a twist, Mark watching interestedly, and the tooth comes out.

Mark immediately leans forward to check it out.  “Cool!”  He opens his mouth wide.  “Am I bleeding?”

 

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Does This Make Me Theodoric of York?

Yet another instance suggesting that in a previous life, Mark swilled mead by the fire while stitching himself up after battles…

Yesterday morning he announces his tooth is loose.  And it is.  Quite loose.

“Ow,” he says.

“Wiggle it,” I say.

By the evening, he’s stomping around in frustration.  “It won’t come out.  Why won’t it come out?”

Me (in jest):  “I could pull it out for you.”

Mark:  “Okay.”

Usually–by which I mean ‘always’–when you offer this service, the sensible child turns you down.

Me (quite stunned):  “Are you sure?”

Mark:  “Come ON.”

I get a paper towel and a good grip on the tooth, and give it a little twist-pull.  It comes loose.  Mark doesn’t make a peep.

Me:  “Here it is.”

Mark:  “Cool!  Is my tooth-hole bleeding?”

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