Front Tooth

Miss Six’s front tooth has been hanging at a precarious angle for weeks and she’s had several offers of tying a piece of string to it and attaching the other end to the door handle before it slams.

You can imagine the reaction this gets.

The loss of her teeth at a rapid rate has totally transformed her face and, at times, it seems my little girl is falling to bits.

Her first tooth fell out while walking down the street and luckily her nana caught it for as she said: “I didn’t have my glasses with me so I would have been fumbling round on the street for hours.”

The next one likely ended up down the loo after she swallowed it – no one was keen to go hunting for it but the tooth fairy did still make an appearance.

This last one, hanging by a fine thread, has been bugging us all holidays but it was her twin brother who did the favour in the end. They were having a bit of a wrestle and he punched her in the mouth. The tooth went flying across the room.

“My tooth!” yelped Miss Six diving after it.

Then she thought she better have a cry for effect.

“Waaaaa!” she wailed running to the bathroom.

A mother knows when her child is crying in pain and, in this case, there was no pain.

There was the usual amount of blood which soon stopped but the commotion drew Master Eight into the bathroom.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Jai punched my tooth out.”

“Well that’s pay back,” shot back an unsympathetic Master Eight without missing a beat.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because last year she knocked my tooth out. With a car!”

Gosh I’d forgotten about the time Miss Six had thrown a toy car at her older brother and knocked his tooth out. All hell had broken lose that day and there was no end of blood.

Poor Master Six, the culprit, stayed in the lounge at the scene of the crime thinking he was in trouble. He wasn’t.

But I was. Who has money on them these days?! After scrounging around I came up with some coins and at bedtime Miss Six decided to leave her precious tooth on her drawers next to her bed for easier access.

“See Mummy, the tooth fairy will fly in here and see it straight away,” she said, giving me a demo by running from the door to the drawers while flapping her arms.

Righto then. It was sorted. Luckily the tooth fairy found it (or remembered) because the next morning, a beaming, toothless Miss Six appeared in the kitchen clasping her coins.

She propped herself up at the bar, placed her coins where her brothers could see them and proceeded to spend the entire breakfast lisping “sausages” and whistling through her new gap.