Eew, 29 May 2012

Today was a big day at our house!  I discovered that garlic powder and ground ginger look the same, and G lost his first tooth.

The ground ginger story is a short one: I added it to a sweet yogurt-lime dip and was confused why the dip left a garlicky aftertaste in my mouth.  I tried the yogurt by itself and it was fine; the lime juice by itself was fine; and with squinched-up face I tried the ginger.  It wasn't ginger, it was garlic.  That's what you get when you buy your spices in bulk and forget to label the tags—or in this case, forget to read the labels your husband wrote on the tags.

Happily, I made a fresh batch sans ginger and it was much tastier.

So much for that story.

Now for the tooth!  During G's dental cleaning last month, the hygienist discovered that two of his teeth were slightly loose, one more than the other.  We smiled and giggled and told G that if he wiggled his tooth and it came out, the Tooth Fairy would come during the night and leave him money.  (Quick aside: My parents did NOT play the Santa Claus game, yet they shamelessly played Tooth Fairy.  Odd.  Naturally, now I do the same thing.  P.S. At a very tender age, I did catch a glimpse of the Tooth Fairy as she waved her wand over my pillow, and she looked just like my mom.  Pregnant.)  I also quietly renewed my solemn vow never EVER to pull out a tooth.  Shudder.

G was excited about the Tooth Fairy—although someone must have spilled the beans because he insists that it's only Mommy or Daddy who comes—and he wiggled now and then when he thought of it, but didn't do much else about the tooth.  Then tonight during dinner he complained that the chicken was too hard to chew, so I looked at the tooth and saw that it was a bit askew.  I went so far as to give it a gingerly wiggle.  Forgoing all example-setting pretense of “isn't this cool?” I yelped and yanked back my hand when the tooth turned beneath my touch.

Enter Jay.  “Honey,” I whimpered, “can you pull out a tooth?  Because if you can't, I'm calling a friend to come over and do it.”  My vow must stand.  Jay blankly looked up from his computer, but before I reached the phone said, “Yeah.  I can do it.”  My hero!

And he did!  I left the room on pretense of doing dishes while Jay spent a loving 15 minutes with G, talking with him and gently teasing the tooth (shudder gross eew) until a beaming, watery-eyed little boy ran up to me, wide mouth held proudly open.  Jay held the tiny thing (blech) in his palm and proudly shared how well G had done with the whole thing.

My little G!  When did he grow up enough to start losing teeth?  It makes me sad on the one hand, but very happy on the other, because the growth of his mind and spirit are truly beautiful.  Vastly unlike the baby tooth, of course.

We popped that puppy into an envelope which is now tucked snugly under a pillow.  Mrs. Tooth Fairy still needs to confer with Mr. Tooth Fairy about current going rates for baby teeth, because the Mrs. got a dime when she was a little girl and the Mr. got a dollar.  Between that large discrepancy and inflation since the '80s, I'm hoping they can settle on a fair rate.

Perhaps Mrs. Tooth Fairy should also come up with a suitable compensation for the brave, nay, heroic efforts of her sacrificial husband in tonight's tooth removal.  Oo, I have a good idea.  I'll feed him yogurt-lime dip.  Hold the garlic!