(A true story)
Little Annie’s first loose tooth had been bothering her for a week. In the beginning, it only bothered her when Mommy was around, but as the days passed, it hurt more often, especially when she ate. Luckily, she knew everything about losing teeth from her brother, Bobby:
“There’s no such thing as the Tooth Fairy, Daddy,” she said.
“No?”
“No. Mommy’s the real Tooth Fairy. I know because Bobby told me. He woke up one time and saw Mommy taking the tooth out from under his pillow and putting money back.”
“Oh.”
When it started hurting to the point she didn’t want to eat, I said we would go to the dentist.
“Is she going to pull it out?” Annie asked.
“Only if it’s loose enough.”
“Will it hurt?”
“Only a little. Remember? That’s what Bobby told you last night.”
Annie was quiet while she finished her milk.
“Daddy?”
“What honey?”
“Is the Tooth Fairy real?” It’s one thing to talk about no tooth fairy when your teeth are firm in your mouth. It’s another to do so when your tooth is loose and a whole dollar is at stake.
“No,” I said. “Mommy takes care of things like that. She’s the real Tooth Fairy.”
Knowing Mommy was involved was enough to satisfy Annie. She finished her breakfast and went to school. Her appointment was at 12:30, so I picked her up at noon when the school lunch break started. She brought her little lunch box with her, and I stopped in the shade at the edge of the parking lot so she could eat. She told me to keep driving, that she wanted to eat her lunch on the way. She had never eaten her lunch in the car before.
Dr. Feldman was waiting at the doorway to the treatment room to welcome us into her parlor. She’s fresh out of dental school, blonde and pretty. She seems nice, though her professional personality is a bit forced: she effuses charm the way a pressure cooker does steam. I guess part of the maturing process is learning not to try so hard to be yourself.
Little Annie looked tiny in the big chair with all the dental equipment around her. I could tell she was afraid since she was very quiet. She was very good though. She opened her mouth when she was supposed to and turned her head when she was asked. She said “Ow, that hurts” a few times as Dr. Feldman wiggled her tooth. Finally, after using some topical anesthesia and lot of wiggling, Dr. Feldman was able to pull it with her hand.
We all cheered, except for Annie, who was crying. The last few wiggles had hurt. I tried to comfort her from the other side of the drilling machine, but she was still whimpering when the doctor showed her the tooth. Then the nurse gave her a jar of treats to pick from and she stopped crying. Dr. Feldman cleaned the tooth and put it into a little white tooth-shaped box, which she gave me to hold. I put it in my pocket for safe-keeping, along with the little yellow ball she had picked as a treat and later, the sticker she had gotten when we walked by Reception.
On the way back to school, we didn’t talk much at first. Annie was holding her mouth shut to keep the gauze tight on the empty tooth spot to stop the bleeding. She took it out just as we turned the last corner before the school.
“Now I’m going to have a big-girl smile,” she said happily. “And I’m going to have a big-girl smile when I get my soccer picture taken tomorrow. Sabra said if the dentist didn’t pull my tooth out, she was going to. But now she won’t have to because I can show her I got it out already. Mommy’s going to be sad she won’t see me tonight because I’ll be sleeping over at Sabra’s house. Oh look, Daddy, there’s the school. And there’s my class! They’re out on the playground! My class is having recess! Can you let me out right here? Thanks, Daddy. Bye.”
In the sudden silence, I drove up to the school building and took her overnight bag to her classroom so she would have it when she went home with Sabra. On the way back home, I could see Annie running away from some little boy, who didn’t have a prayer of catching her. No one did.