One week ago, last Friday, Little Boy came home from preschool with an extremely wiggly front lower-left tooth. Since he is roughly two years away from naturally-occuring baby tooth loss, we were alarmed. What happened, Little Boy? He told us that during naptime, he was busy playing with a friend (of course) and he bit onto the friend’s blanket, and said friend yanked said blanket away… presumably causing pain, a raucous, and perhaps some blood? and inevitably, a loose tooth.

It wiggled all weekend but the tooth didn’t come out until Monday. I had arrived at preschool to pick him up and he opened his mouth and pointed to a tiny void in his lower mouth. “Mama, look!” he said, and I gaped at the gap.

“Little Boy!” I exclaimed. “You lost your tooth!” I turned to the teacher. “Where is it?”

She had no clue and did not even realize it had come out (yes, for these and other reasons, I am investigating new preschools). It turned out the tooth became rootless during circle time, and Little Boy dropped it on the carpet, saying nothing. After searching for a few minutes, I found it — so little, smaller than a corn kernel.

Holding that little bitty incisor in my hand, I knew two things had to happen. One, a visit from the Tooth Fairy. Two, a visit to the dentist.

Little Boy had no clue about the Tooth Fairy. We had read Little Rabbit’s Loose Tooth some months ago, but since it was happening to a rabbit it must have seemed extra abstract, so I had to explain several times that a woman with wings would fly into his bedroom while he slept, take his tooth from underneath his pillow, and leave a toy (I decided against money because, at 4 years old, money has little allure). This terrified him.

“I don’t want her to come!” he wailed, looking fretfully at his bedroom window. Then, “Mama, how does she get in? She break the windows?”

“She can fly through windows,” I explained. Panic in his eyes.

“Do you know her?” he asked.

“She came to visit me when I was little and I lost my teeth,” I said. “But I’ve never seen her. No one has. She only comes when you’re sleeping.”

Terror, but eventually the lure of a toy won out. We placed the tooth in an envelope and I had Little Boy slide it under his pillow. The next morning when I got up for running, I sneaked into his room and replaced the envelope with small package of two superhero figurines, Hulk and Thor. He moved but didn’t open his eyes. This is tricky business!

He was very excited when he woke up. “Super heroes” have replaced cars as his toy of choice, which I welcome because he makes the super heroes interact with each other, as opposed to just lining up cars in bizarre configurations. He keeps calling Hulk “Hunk,” which drives Mr. P and I to unsuppressible giggles.

The prospect of the dentist was as equally terrifying as the tooth fairy, but like the tooth fairy, everything turned out okay. I had taken Little Boy to a dentist last summer but he refused to open his mouth and we decided not to force him. This time, I decided to find a pediatric dentist. To increase the chances of success, I scheduled the appointment just before lunch time and promised to take him out for pizza if he opened wide! for the dentist.

The hygienist was extremely nice to Little Boy, taking care to be as nonthreatening as possible. He immediately trusted her. It also helped that his chair was in a big room with three other chairs, so he could see other kids reclining placidly while adults peered into their mouths. He willingly climbed into the chair, smiled big when it moved, and opened his mouth wide!

I learned the other lower front tooth was slightly loose as well, but it may re-root if we’re lucky. I also learned that, apparently, little kids are supposed to floss their tooth every day. Oops.

After getting a new toothbrush and some more toys from the dentist, and going out for pizza, Little Boy asked me again when he was getting a new tooth. He just can’t believe it’s not coming back for “a very long time,” and perhaps thought the dentist would give him a new one. Hopefully, he values having his teeth in his mouth more than all of the toys and attention he receives when he loses one.