My son knocked at the front door at 9:30 p.m. Friday night. I opened the door and turned back to the kitchen without looking at him. “Mom. Mom,” he said, “It’s bad.”
I peered at him in the dark entryway. His chin, nose and mouth were bloodied.
He fell while playing basketball, tripping over a big chunk of nothing, and then another kid landed on his head, smashing his face into the street.
His front teeth were loosened. This fact made me see dollar signs, seven thousand dollar signs’ worth of fake teeth. Instead of screaming, I got out an ice tray to fix him a little pack.
His teeth did not fall out and now, only a few days later, he is healing quite nicely.
Meanwhile, my kids are passing cold germs from one to another. My daughter is mad at her 10-year old brother for giving her his cold. She’s feverish and has a cough and she is not pleased.
I can only be thankful that she is five and doesn’t require around-the-clock pampering when she’s sick.
I am thankful that my son retains his teeth.