Riley has had a bunch of loose teeth lately. Three in the last month. Two on top, one on bottom. And his favorite thing to do was to push them out against each other so two, one on the top and one on the bottom were sticking out at almost 90 degree angles from his gums. I didn't get a picture of it, but it wasn't pretty. Of the two that were sticking out one was really loose and one was (in retrospect) still attatched to bone. Riley decided that the really loose one needed to come out and asked Dad to pull it for him. Brad aquiesed to Riley's request. After all we do have a full tray of surgical forceps sitting on top of the dresser in our bedroom.
Without any anesthesia and pulling out the first forcep that struck his fancy, Brad estimated that he could give one quick tug/twist and the tooth in question would pop right out since it was already sooooo lose. . .
One quick tug was followed by the subtle sound and texture of fractured tooth root and bone and a slightly delayed but unmistakeable look of shear agony on poor little Riley's face. The Dr. quickly reassesed that this tooth would need something more persuasive than a quck tug. At this point Riley was rocking back and forth on his knees, cupping both hands to his face and reeling in agony. Then to make matters worse, after a good bit of time Riles finally finds his voice and informs his guilt ridden father through sobs "that was the wrong tooth dad!!!" OOPS. . .
At this point Riley was more than happy to have a couple shots and get both teeth out as soon as possible. Brad is still wondering how grandma and grandpa got this done with a shoe string tied to a door knob?
