Unfortunately, our resident Calamity Jane aka Wyatt Murdock, has injured himself again. While playing a game of hide-n-seek, he slipped and fell, face first, onto a brick fireplace at his aunt and uncles. We heard screaming from the other room and knew something was wrong. Turns out that he had fallen and hit two front teeth pushing them back toward the roof of his mouth. We took him to a family friend who happens to be a dentist. (Brett went to his house and began banging on the door interupting what turned out to be his daughters baby shower!) Luckily, Dr. Cook was willing to help us and we met him at his office (remember this is a Saturday afternoon). I shudder every time I think about how horrible the experience was. He was given novicane (sans gas) and the dentist pulled and pushed on the teeth to get them back to their orginal position. Much to our dismay, the front tooth went all cock-eyed and catiwampus later that day, and Wyatt had to go back the next day (yep more shoots involved) and have it pulled.
The craziest part was that, well 1, Wyatt didn't have a seditive at all, and 2, the dentist didn't have an emergency assistant available which meant Brett had a crash course in dental assisting and had to hold Wyatt down. It was by far the more horrific parental diaster on record for us. It was particulary brutal for me because I have a thing with teeth; they creep me out. I cannot even watch a kid wiggle a loose tooth without getting the hebejebes! I frequently have nightmares about gnashing my teeth until the crumble and fall out of my mouth. (I know I have issues). I will proably have nightmares about this incident for the rest of my natural life. Wyatt, however, seems pretty unphased by the whole thing and exclaimed the other day that he wants to be a "nice dentist" when he grows up!
So, my beautiful little boy is missing his front tooth at age 3. Looks like he will be sporting the "Billy Bob" look until he is in first grade or so and his adult teeth come in. Sigh.
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