Just another Tuesday morning, this morning.
By that, I mean yet another Southern Railway strike. So the alarm went off at 6.30am and I asked Shaun to check what state the trains were in. Amazingly, they were running fine. So that was good – after all, it’s meant to get worse (but now I’ve realised that’s next week when there are no services from here).
So that meant service as normal. I get up, get my shower, get ready for work. When I get out of the shower it’s H’s turn to get ready. We have our little routine.
She was part-dressed for school and already I was running late. She came running into the room tearfully.
“Mummy, I think my tooth is bleeding” she worriedly said.
It was. The one that wasn’t as wobbly as the other side, which isn’t meant to fall out until she’s 9-10 years old. The teeth next to the middle ones are pushing them out and her mouth isn’t big enough. I had that problem when I was young. (I would often delight in letting anyone know who called me a “big gob” that it actually wasn’t the case)
I asked if I could wobble it. Most of the time she’ll let me but this time she was quite upset. “OW! OW! OW! IT HURTS” she yelled. Conscious of the train being a bit late, but knowing that I had to get this train as they’re only going to get worse, I had to put the pressure on a bit.
So I tried to wobble enough to take it out. She cottoned on to what I was doing and clamped her mouth shut.
“I really can’t miss my train this morning” I told her. Then came up with a plan to take her to the dentist to get it taken out. “you’ll probably get an injection to do it” (jeez, why do I make up such nonsense? She’ll probably end up terrified of the dentist instead and it’s all my fault). Then passed on the responsibility to Shaun. Then took it back again.
H just looked a bit confused. But still clamped her mouth shut.
I asked her if she was likely to eat today, what with having two Very Wobbly teeth either side of her centre ones. She confirmed she wouldn’t be eating. So obviously as parent this asks for Very Drastic Measures.
“Can I wipe this blood off your tooth?” I asked, and she opened her mouth enough for me to get both my fingers in. I grabbed the tooth and pulled.
“AAAAAAAAIIIIIEEEEEEEAAAIIIAAAAAAEEEIIIEEE” she screamed. Followed by a very dramatic “Just kill me now!” repeated in a frantic manner. She’s seven, they do that kind of thing.
Anyway, result. The tooth was out. Now there was just the blood to deal with, consoling my daughter “I will NEVER trust you EVER again” and getting out the door in time for the train because who knows when the next one will be as Southern Railway are complete gits.
Several apologies and cuddles and telling her I felt really bad, but that I was happy she would be able to eat, and I was out of the door, the tooth firmly inside her Tooth Fairy Box.
THEN I remembered we might not have done anything with the elves, the bane of my December as I feel the least creative I ever have right now. Fortunately Shaun did something at 1am when he woke up on the settee (he keeps falling asleep there and I go up to bed at 11pm having two hours of snore-free time).
She ate well at school and all is good.
So it’s bedtime.
“I’ve decided. I want to keep my tooth” she informed me. “It’s really cool. It has a gap inside it, and this is my only chipped tooth so I want to write the Tooth Fairy a letter to ask her to leave it” I confirmed all her teeth were like that, and why not write a letter ready for the next tooth which will be left (as it’s only a matter of days) and just GO TO SLEEP. Oh and that the Tooth Fairy might only give her half the money if she has to keep it. H wasn’t having any of it, because she knows about the Tooth Fairy. Apparently the fairy comes past every single night to check for missing teeth.
“I’m so clever I could pretend to sleep and you will fall for it” she told me. Obviously she’s right. I heard her get up when I’d left her snoozing. Clever monkey.
So tonight I have to remember to do something creative with the elves (yes, we have two. WHY?!), leave money from the Tooth Fairy and take away the tooth (she’ll lose it, surely? Then I won’t have a complete set) Then again, as I asked on Facebook, what exactly am I going to do with an entire set of milk teeth that belong to my daughter? Other than it feels weird keeping them but wrong to throw them away.
It’s bloody hard being a parent sometimes and having to remember all the lies.