The Show Down

It was time for Christa to lose the tooth.

Past time.

Her baby tooth had been loose for weeks and weeks and weeks. I am not exaggerating here for the sake of story. It was hanging at an odd, snaggletooth angle front and center in her smile. And her other tooth was growing in. I could see it. She could see it. Christa had bumped her mouth a couple of times and cried, saying, "That hurt my tooth."

I knew how to fix that: Pull the tooth.

It's not like this was Christa's first loose tooth. She'd already survived losing 5 other teeth. But this one was not leaving her mouth.

We had several skirmishes about the tooth.

"It's time for the tooth to come out."

""Not yet, Mom. It'll hurt."

"Come on, Christa. I can get that tooth out in one little push."

"No."

"Will you let Daddy take the tooth out?"

"No."

It became more a battle of the wills between me and my caboose kiddo than any real angst about losing the tooth.

Last night, I decided--right or wrong--enough was enough. Christa showed me how she could push her baby tooth back and see the adult tooth encroaching on its territory. That didn't seem to hurt her.

It was time for a showdown.

I'll admit it: It wasn't pretty. I confess to trying to bribe her with offers of money. Is $3 too much for a tooth? There were tears--both hers and mine. I had to get my husband in on the process. He was the one who finally pulled the tooth out while I held Christa.

Afterwards, Christa snuggled in my arms.

"Are you mad at me?"

She nodded her head.

"Well, I'm sorry you are mad at me. I'm not sorry we got that tooth out. It really needed to come out. But I am sorry you are mad at me. Will you forgive me?"

She nodded her head again. And she stayed snuggled in my lap, which I figured was a good sign.

I'm still trying to decide if I was right or wrong to force the dental showdown.

Ah, motherhood. Who knew all the questions I'd face once I had children.