Our Noah bear’s already had his share of dental adventures in his 5 years.
I’ll spare you the saga, but I’m grateful we found a terrific pediatric dentist who’s a menschela with the hands of a micro surgeon. I don’t know if a micro surgeon is a thing, but Dr. Eliasberg would be that.
We’d come through the last of the procedures requiring the “sharp water” (There’s a whole mystery deception language they use with the kids, and it’s brilliant.), when one morning I was brushing Noah’s teeth, and I saw behind a lower incisor ANOTHER tooth growing in.
Wha?
This is a thing that happens. The permanent tooth sometimes wants to make an appearance before the kid tooth gives itself to the Tooth Fairy coffers.
Lordt.
We called Dr. E. What was just going to be a routine cleaning was going to need to be an extraction so the new teeth had somewhere to go.
Dr. E worked her magic again, and Noah emerged from the chair not only okay but proud of his new look. And excited about the milkshake in his future.
That evening, we were out of singles, so while I taught, Melissa put together the mystical dental exchange gift.
She used the only bill she had in her wallet — a cold fresh 20.
And she nested it in its own little ziplock bag surrounded by copper colored glitter.
We’re setting a pretty high tooth bar, here, aren’t we? I mean, I felt lucky when the Magic Molar Maven remembered to drop a quarter under my pillow.
He had been through the tooth wars, though. So sure. Ok.
I slipped in and performed the exchange —which was a challenge. Let’s just say I’m not going to be moonlighting as a cat burglar or a forest tracker anytime soon.
The next morning Noah and Jude came downstairs, Noah holding up his gift with his lower gap beaming.
“Daddy! She came! And she brought me GLITTER!”
Magic was real.
And it was — to see the delight on this kid’s face.
“There is something else in there,” I told him.
He looked closer. “Oh, a message?”
I informed him that there was also a rectangle of green paper representing monetary energy included in his gift. I didn’t tell him it was a 20. The whole dental euphemism glossary has sent me off on a deceit rampage, it seems.
But what would it be to be thrilled by a ziplock snack size of copper colored glitter under your pillow?
I wish for you to have a moment when something feels magical like that today.
And I hope the Tooth Fairy’s fresh out of coins and small bills.
