My 15-month-old started walking this week which, I know, it seems like a great thing, right? I know a lot of people dread when they start walking – they get into more stuff, they start climbing up things, more danger in general. But frankly, I’ve always found it gets easier as they get to be toddlers. I am not fond of the Carry Me Everywhere stage, or the even less popular Entertain Me For Hours Even Though I Have An Attention Span of Like Twelve Seconds phase. So I was pretty excited that we’d finally come to the toddling part of toddlerhood.
Until last night. When Max’s two beautiful, and not very old, front teeth took on the glass coffee table that, while seemingly dangerous, has never really caused us any problems – and he’s our second kid. It’s that moment when you know it’s bad, but you don’ t know what to do, and you don’t know just how bad it is. There was crying, and blood, and – god help me – tooth bits. Agh. After I died and came back to life, I wrestled him to the sink and cleaned out his mouth, assessed the chippedness, and called a relative who also happens to be a dentist. (Said relative lives out of town, and it was Friday night, so no dentists were locally available. Plus he’s 1, so it’s not like he has a regular provider or anything.) He will live, it turns out, and probably be just fine. But I guess he’ll have his first dental visit earlier the recommended two years of age. Like, Monday. How about you? Any scary tooth/kid stories?
