Friday, March 23, 2012

Loose Teeth

Oh how I hate the tooth losing stage of life.  The horrible look of wiggly teeth,  the horrible sound it makes when it comes out.  It is all just enough to make me want to toss my Oreos.  Mind you, I am not a wimpy person.  I pulled all my own teeth and can recall not being bothered by that.  I can clean up barf.  I can clean up poop.  I can clean up myself after I got barfed or pooped on.  I took anatomy in grad school and yes, there were lovely folks who donated themselves to science for our labs.  It made me take a big long shower, but it didn't gross me out.  My point is, I am not usually grossed out.
Except when it comes to bones.  Broken bones make my stomach turn.  I blame it on Joe Theisman.  If you need further explanation, watch The Blind Side or go on you tube.  I am sure that you can find the gruesome video of his leg snapping like a twig and pointing every which way but right.  Nasty.  
And then there was a time when my little bro dislocated his hip playing football.  Luckily I never saw his injury because the paramedics put him on a stretcher, but my mom and I followed the ambulance in 5:00 traffic on the tollway.  They didn't even bother turning on lights because there was no place for people to attempt to move in the gridlock.  All the while lays my brother with one leg 6 inches longer than the other. Ewww.  And Ouuuuchhh!
I think teeth fall into this category for me.  My daughter has gotten out of bed with a tooth that has busted to the completely jiggly phase and is trying everything in her power to get it out.  I can hear it.  I would help her, but she refuses to let me.  There is moaning and the clicking sound of the wiggling and if I weren't her mom, I would be sooooo out of here.   But I stay.  She eventually consents to my assistance.  Oh joy.  But it is the means to an end.  I. CAN. NOT. watch her point that thing 90 degrees straight at me anymore.   I have to make it stop.
I grab some rubber gloves for the grip.  As soon as I get my fingers around it, with the tiniest of tugs, it is out.  Wheeeeewwww!   I did it.  I got that darn nasty thing out of her head and she is going to bed happy now.  And so am I!


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