To Tell the Tooth

 George is seven.

He's due for some gaps in that smile soon, but don't let his gorgeous grin fool you, he is not happy about it. He is the first child I have met who would rather keep his mouth as it is, thank you very much.

This is something I plan to help him get through. I'm sharing it here because it's an anxiety that is real, and some kids feel it; yet, there is very little in Internetland on the subject that doesn't devolve into the use of fairy tales.* So, I'm putting our experience on record, in hopes that it will help someone little out there who doesn't exactly relish the notion of beloved body bits becoming all wobbly and dropping off. Here we go, armed with facts, feelings, and freedom. Growing up and keeping it real.

 

*Nothing against you, tooth fairy, but we call that sort of thing "pretending" around here. It's done with great glee, but it's still called "pretending."

I'll tell you what I did first. I  reassured George. Why? Because that is what adults do for each other when facing something frightening. "Reassure child that losing teeth is normal," was tip number one on all sites yielded by the Google search, "child nervous about losing first tooth." Reassure child that losing teeth is normal.

Yeah, I did that. He starts to freak out a little and say, "No!" He did not plan for this to happen and it is happening anyway. So actually, reassuring him sounds, to him, like I don't hear him.

"It's okay! It's normal!" I chirp, reassuringly. To him, that sounds like, "I totally don't care how forked up it sounds to have your very own teeth fall out of your face! Your fear is your problem!" So I think, instead of reassurance, he needs the freedom to be frank, without cheerleading. He doesn't have to be okay with this. He can say so. And he did. Here are some of his thoughts on the subject:

Number one: Teeth fall out.
Number two:  They grow another tooth.
Number three:  I do not want my teeth to fall out.
Number four: They grow more teeth.
Number five:  I am nervous and excited.
Number six: I think it's going to be growing.
Number seven:  I have a loose tooth.
Number eight:  There will be a little bit of blood.
Number nine: Oooh, it'll hurt.
Number ten: After it comes out, I will play with the tooth.

Thank you for sharing, George. And thanks for giving me an idea. Right after he and I wrote his ten point break-down on losing teeth, I realized I had something in a little box on a little shelf that might help make this transition smoother for him. Teeth! Thanks to my sentimental hoarding, there were five little incisors for George to handle and inspect. Physical evidence that Henry and Thomas went through it too. He was delighted by them, clacking them together and shaking them around in the cupped palm of his hand. Sometimes knowing your big brothers did something, and survived, can embolden a fellow.

That's where you all come in. Not only do I plan to unearth pictures of Henry and Thomas at this stage of life, I am on the look-out for any and all photos of jack-o-lantern smiles: pictures of kids, showing off their spaces and/or newly emerging teeth. If you feel like taking part, send a picture of your favorite gappy grin.  It needs to be a photo of you or a child whose photo you have the right to publicize. You can send them via private message on Facebook, or post a link to them in the comments below this post. Using photos of his brothers, and any other contributions, I plan to show George, with real faces, that he will survive this change, and that he might even still be smiling afterward.