Toofwess

Remember the pride and joy you felt when your little one got their first loose tooth? How you ran to the phone to call daddy at work, Grandma at home and then all their friends? Then, when they finally lost it, the excitement over getting to be the tooth fairy? For me it was right up there with their first steps, their first word, and their first pair of shoes. So different from my experience with my first tooth.

I recall it clearly. I was brushing my teeth, foam dripping down my chin when I felt a sharp little pain. I rinsed, spit and carefully inspected my mouth. Then I felt it. The loose tooth. "MAMA!" I ran to my mother who very gently took me up onto my lap and told me that I was growing up, that soon I would lose all my baby teeth. I became inconsolable, hysterical. No matter how many times my mom told me that new teeth would grow in, I didn't believe her. You see, both of my parents had false teeth. At night I would get up to go to the bathroom to see those sets of teeth glowing in the dimness of the nightlight. If I had a nightmare in the middle of the night and cried out, my mother would rush in looking sort of like Sherry Lewis's Lambchop. I still loved her and all, but wellll, you know...... I left that tooth in as long as I could. When it finally came out the new one was already growing in underneath so I was spared being the only kid in Kindergarten who had to gum their animal crackers.

When my children's first tooth came out we made a big deal of putting it under the pillow. I tip-toed in after they were sleeping and exchanged the money for the tooth. It was sooooo beautiful. Pearly white, pristine, and diminutive. I would save it forever. When the next tooth came out, I forgot to get any money for the tooth. The tooth fairy left a rain check. The fifth tooth I slept right through. By the seventh and eighth tiny tusks, I was just handing them money for teeth, straight across. I had flunked tooth fairy school.

Which brings me to the next problem. What do you do with all those teeth? Who knew that such small mouths could hold so many darn teeth! I stuck them in my jewelry box for a while till I started feeling like an anthropologist every time I changed my earrings. I put them in old medicine bottles until my husband got up one morning and tried to take one for a headache. Next I tried an old shoebox in the corner of a closet but a toddler I was baby sitting found them and tried to shove one up her nose. What to do?

Now, I know there are mothers out there that fastidiously label each miniature treasure chest you get from the dentist with each child's name and date. They're the same moms who finished their baby books and make those perky little scrap books. Not only didn't I finish a single baby book but I don't even know which tooth belongs to which kid. So why isn't there a book? '101 things to do with dead teeth' or something. I couldn't just throw them away, could I? After pondering the dilemma a while and discarding ideas like seed teeth bracelets and tiddly winks played with teeth, that is exactly what I decided to do.

Late one night, after checking that the kids were asleep, I snuck out in the darkness like a mommy monster ready for the dastardly deed. I had some experience at this sort of thing; it's how I get rid of the reams of artwork my children create. Going to the canisters, where I had squirreled them away for this week, I stealthily wrapped them in a paper towel.

"What are you doing?" I jumped a mile.

It was my husband. "Nothing," I said guiltily.

"Your throwing the teeth away aren't you?" he accused. My husband is very sentimental.

"I don't know what else to do with them." I whined.

"Here." He took the teeth out of my hand and put them in a small jelly jar. Then he placed them lovingly on the mantel of our fireplace among the glass figurines. I smiled weakly.

Now why hadn't I thought of that?