My son’s second tooth was going to come out at any hour, nay any minute, no second. Both his first tooth and second tooth may have well come out at the very same time. But this didn’t happen. The loss of his first tooth unrolled in a sweet fashion, with the “Ah, your first tooth. Wow!” moment, and if you recall from my previous post First Tooth Lost, a bit of hidden sadness on my part.
Now the second tooth, I could see it was just aching to be wriggled free.”Get me out here,” it shouted.
I tried to coax the little morsel and suggested several times to S., my six-year-old, “Hey, why don’t you just push it out?” If my hands were smaller, maybe I could have assisted.
“No,” my son would say, pushing the tooth with his tongue back and forth, this way and that. And, you’re most welcome for that delightful image.
It’s his tooth, I thought. He should be in charge of it. It will come out when it’s darn well ready.
Amazingly, I am prepared for this second tooth. I truly am, and I should be because I’ve had ample time. Still, this is an absolute first for me. I went to the store ahead of time and have coins, gold ones, a couple of Sacagaweas. They’re so pretty and shiny, S. won’t even want go immediately to Target to spend them.
Second tooth, ready. Tooth fairy, she’s ready! So, we’re standing in line to buy fireworks, at the last minute, and I notice his second tooth is not there. How can this be? My son was unaware of it, even though for two entire days it sucked up all his attention, literally.
Missing, huh? Where could it be? In his bed? In my bed? He did climb in to sleep with me earlier that morning. We weren’t going to give up on this tooth just yet. It was only his second tooth remember, and I was prepared! I had the gold coins in my wallet. It was going to be special, stir up his tooth-fairy fantasies, of the one who wears the white, circular dress.
I searched the beds. Nothing. Searched his room, his floors. You never knew so many things could look like a tooth in all your life. Many times I thought for sure I had it, only to see it was a feather, no part of a seashell, a piece of rice, scrunched-up string, a crumb, a piece of paper, styrofoam, a Lego piece (see above photo for evidence). Suddenly I felt like I was staring in my own CSI episode, that, and a pressing desire to vacuum his room.
The tooth is missing in action, nowhere to be found. Could it be? Could it be he swallowed it? Has it been in his little tummy all along? But, how can this be? I was prepared for this tooth, like no other. This is on par with showing up for a class on time for once only to find out it’s been cancelled. Or, driving to the airport in a mad rush, risking your life, to find out your plane has been delayed. Or perhaps, studying all night for an exam only to learn the next day it’s open book.
What is the cosmic universe trying to tell me? What now? I did as expected, the right, responsible thing. Is someone playing a trick on me? Are forces conspiring against me? Should I just simply do less? Am I…trying too hard?
The question is, what will my next move be? I realize I could tempt fate and take matters into my own hands. I could mention the tooth and have my son write a loving note to the tooth fairy. We could request an exception, a waiver of sorts, for this time only. The gold coins could be magically delivered.
The other option is to do nothing. Nothing. I like the way that rolls off my tongue. But this presents two possibilities. Chances are S. will remember at some point in the near future before lost tooth #3 makes its appearance. He never seems to forget anything. I will need to act then. By that time, my coins could possibly be discovered, or spent on something necessary, never mind their unique gold quality.
Or, I could be ready for tooth #3, hide the coins in a safe place, and once again, be prepared. Hmm…do I test it again? In all probability I will forget where I hid the coins.
The universe works in mysterious ways.