I was minding my own business, working at the computer when I heard the unmistakable cry of my daughter in pain. She ran downstairs, hand clamped over her mouth, drooling and crying real tears.
“Uh-oh, did you hurt yourself?”
“Did you bump your tooth?”
“Are you okay?”
“Let me look.” She pulled her hand away to reveal a bloody tooth. It kind of looked scary. I went to find a red colored washcloth I could wrap ice in. When in doubt, get out a wet washcloth. I offered it to her and she took it, tried it, rejected it and clamped her hand over her mouth again. Tears ran down her face.
“Does it hurt?”
“Oh. Are you just freaked out?”
“You want to lay down and watch a show?”
So, that’s what she did until she was ready to stop freaking out. She came down a little later. The blood had stopped, The tooth was very wiggly but still hanging in there.
She was so worried about that loose tooth. What if it falls out and she didn’t notice? What if she ate it? What if it never fell out and she could never eat again? Would it hurt if it was pulled? What if it falls out? What is if doesn’t? She traveled this circular path of anxiety around and around again.
Then, “Mom! It fell out!”
And the tooth fairy remembered to put a gold dollar coin under her pillow.
It was a day well lived. (She just woke up to use the bathroom. When I tucked her into bed, she remembered and checked under her pillow. “Hey, now I have another gold coin.” I don’t know if she will ever be cuter than she is at this moment.)