Busy-Dad-E, DDS (Doesn't Do Surgery)

I’m not a dentist, nor have I ever aspired to be a dentist.

And now I’ve confirmed why.

On a recent trip to Papa’s, we made a trip to Mom-E and I’s all-time favorite pizza place. It happens to be a block away (literally) from the hospital where Big Brother was born.

And Big Brother loves to hear the story about how after he was born, Dad-E and Aunt-E picked up a pizza from there, and it was so cold and snowy that day that the pizza got cold during the 1 block trip back to the hospital.

We were finishing up our meal, when all of a sudden Big Brother looked at me, panic-stricken, and his mouth had a minor gush of blood.

His wiggly tooth had gone from wiggly to “hanging by a thread and needs to come out, lest he choke on it/lost it”. (I’m not even sure if he ate anything).

But Big Brother wanted no part in any dental work.

So we kinda ignored things for a while, until the bill was paid and it was time to go.

Quickly, I diagrammed up a new play from the “Dad-E Playbook”, and broke the huddle with Mom-E and Papa.

On the way out of the pizza place, I took 2 lollipops. When we got outside, I said, “Who wants a lollipop?” This enabled us to get Big Brother and Little Brother sitting down at an outside table.

While the boys started working on their lollipops, Mom-E held Bab-E Brother (Wiggly, loose teeth is like “nails on the chalkboard” for Mom-E. I would think having given birth to them, that wiggly teeth would be no big deal, but apparently not. And that’s okay. She gave birth to them that gives her carte blanche tap out of this.”

And so Papa helped me restrain hold Big Brothers arms, and with a napkin I reached in, and with a combination ‘wiggle-wiggle-pull’ technique, 2 seconds later I had the tooth in my hand. Never mind the screaming bloody murder part that must’ve left the pizza place wondering what the heck was going on outside.

Fortunately, no one called the police.

After a few more minutes of tears (and some genuine concern about how long it will take for the permanent tooth to come in), I wrote Big Brother (and Little Brother) a “prescription” for ice cream, and all was right with the world again.

(I also had a brief talk with Big Brother about how I would never hurt or scare him on purpose. And that while I know he was scared about having his tooth pulled, that I did it because it had to come out, because if we didn’t, it could cause bigger problems).

Like the sea turtles that return to the beach where they were born to lay their eggs as adults, it’s fitting that Big Brother returned to our favorite pizza place, near the hospital where he was born, to lose his first tooth.

This is definitely a story he’ll never forget (just like when Mom-E jumped into that pit of plastic balls at her 6th birthday party 

Congratulations on losing your first tooth, Big Brother! We’re so proud of you, and we love your new grin. You’re so excited to come back to school to show your teacher and friends.

Have a good week,
Busy-Dad-E

P.S. We know what you want for Christmas.