The Tooth King

My daughter's friend, Brianna, has a loose tooth, and her permanent tooth is already coming in behind the loose tooth. She whines quite a bit about her tooth hurting, and so I took a look into her mouth and wished the Tooth King was here. 

The Tooth King was my father. He pulled all of the baby teeth in our family. And in our neighborhood. He had a system, and it never changed, but we still had him pull the teeth. He was a wizard at doing it. 

First, he would ask to look at the tooth. He'd smile and act jolly and silly, and you'd trepidly open your mouth so that he could take a peek. Then he would reach in and wiggle the tooth. At this point, we would whine. Something along the lines of "don't pull it yet, I'm not ready." Then he would question that.

Dad: "You don't want me to pull it? You're sure? It's ready. It's loose. You don't want me to pull it?"

Then he'd remove his hand, and immediately your tongue would go to the tooth, and SURPRISE the tooth was gone, and you'd taste blood. My father would try to look innocent, but he would break into a grin at the disbelieving look on your face, and he'd hold out his hand, and there would be the tooth! You never felt a thing.

Sometimes there might be a slight tug, and he'd groan and say he couldn't get his fat fingers around it, but of course, he'd already yanked the tooth. He was slick and sly, and it would be over before we knew it had even begun. 

Dad: "Let me see that loose tooth."

Me: "Look at it. Don't pull it, Daddy. It's not ready yet. Just look at it."

Dad: "I just want to see it," 

Me: "But don't pull it. Okay? You won't pull it?"

Dad: "Well, how can I pull it if I haven't even seen it?"

Although it never hurt, I was always sure that this time it would. My Dad would lose patience, and out would come the roar.

Dad: "Dammit, let me see in there."

And of course, I would dutifully open my mouth, and once again, the tooth would end up in his hand, and once again, I'd be shocked that I didn't feel a thing. Sometimes he would play with us and not take the tooth at first.  

Dad: "Yep, it's almost ready. Maybe another two days. Or more. Let me wiggle it again." 

Poof! The tooth would be pulled. It never hurt. I'd feel the gap, be shocked and surprised, and then I'd freak out that I was bleeding. But that was only because I thought it warranted some reaction. I'd rinse out my mouth, and then I'd stare at him in wonder. How did he do that? How did it not hurt? He'd laugh his big, booming laugh and beam. He loved it.

We thought he was terrific. I was sure he had a gift. He was the Tooth King!

My father pulled all of my baby teeth except for the one that came out while I was chewing gum in the back of our station wagon, traveling on vacation. I remember being horrified at first that my tooth had come out, then elated that I'd done it myself, and then sad that I'd missed out on the whole Tooth King ritual. 

I miss my Dad. I miss the Tooth King.