Annie finally lost her first baby tooth this past weekend. It was long awaited and, by the end, it seemed as though she would be the last six-year-old on the planet to lose her first tooth. At one point last year I started noticing a bunch of kids in her class already had huge spaces in their smiles. I’d scroll through pictures on Facebook and Instagram of friends’ kids losing their first and second and eighth teeth. While I wondered when it would be Annie’s turn, I wasn’t exactly over-anxious. Once those big chompers start coming in that’s it; she’d practically be an adult. And by practically I mean actually. Those baby teeth are practically all I have left from her babyhood. Well, aside from the memories. And my inability to jump on a trampoline without peeing myself a little bit.
And then it happened: Look, my tooth moves when I touch it! I didn’t believe her at first. I thought she probably heard some other kid saying it. I’d occasionally ask her if she still had a loose tooth and she’d be like of course. I guess that was a silly question since teeth can’t really get unwiggly (dewiggle?). Silly Mama. In the weeks leading up to the big moment, she’d torment me by wiggling it right in front of my face every chance she had. It takes a lot to gross me out but, apparently, loose teeth are high on the list — somewhere between overgrown homeless-person toenails and stepping on a dead animal barefoot.
Before we knew it, her tooth got so wiggly that she could even twist it. Just nasty. The big event was imminent and I felt prepared for the moment. I imagined blood and maybe some tears (from both of us). Craig and I discussed introducing the tooth fairy, whether or not to leave money, what to do with the tooth, etc.
Finally, Saturday morning was the day. Annie asked if she could eat a lollipop she had stolen from my personal stash. I said yes because I couldn’t be bothered to argue. A minute later she comes over and announces: I didn’t even bite on the lollipop and my tooth fell out! Then she ran back to what she was doing. Wait, your tooth fell out?? That’s it? No blood? No tears? And you’re just casually telling me this as a b-t-dubs? The moment we’ve (I’ve) been waiting for the last six years finally happened, now let’s move on with our lives?
And that’s how it went down.
Back in July of 2010, just a few days short of Annie turning five months old, I felt something hard on her gums. I had read the books religiously, month by month, and a tooth wasn’t something I expected to be expecting. Her first tooth. At four months (technically), she grew her first tooth. All on her own. And that’s precisely when I realized we had a genius on our hands. I was thrilled yet weepy that my baby was growing up too fast. Then, of course, some punk was like that means they’ll fall out early.
So hey, punk, you were WRONG.
Here’s how the story ends: her tooth fell out, she put it in a bag, then she lost the bag. The tooth fairy made an appearance that night anyway, and she even left some money under Annie’s pillow. The fairy was extra generous since she didn’t have change of a five, but she figured that the first tooth is the most valuable. We’ll pass on that message to Annie around the time when her next tooth starts to twist. In the meantime, I’m taking deep breaths, reminding myself that Annie’s still too young to date, and frantically searching every corner of our apartment so that Craig can add the tooth to his stash of umbilical stumps.