My daughters have an amazing talent that I’m really hoping they grow out of soon.
They have an uncanny ability to trip, land on their face, and need to have teeth pulled.
My oldest tripped in the bathroom, slammed into the tub, and eventually lost two. (Now I’m even more freaked out about rough-housing in the bathroom.)
The Little One was chasing a bear in the driveway and landed on her face. She split her front tooth into three pieces.
This reminded me that I also chipped one of my teeth when I was little. Thankfully, it was only chipped and did not need to be removed. My mother does not believe in pain medication. (No explanation needed for why I hate going to the dentist.)
And yet again, this time at dance class (isn’t that supposed to be a non-contact sport?), my oldest slipped and landed on her face. When they fall now, the first place I look is their mouth. She split her lip and bit her tongue. There was a tiny bit of blood on her gum, but the tooth didn’t seem to move, so I thought we had escaped.
Not so, two weeks later, the tooth was changing color. And we were off to the dentist again. (No wonder he has a Porsche. If we keep this up, he’ll have a Lamborghini by the time they’re in first grade.)
At this pace, the tooth fairy will be able to cross us out of her address book.