I'm mildly obsessed with teeth. It's a fetish passed down from my father who undoubtedly got it from my grandmother who was very conscious of her teeth. According to my aunts, my grandmother was so embarrassed of her natural teeth that she was ecstatic about getting dentures. That's how I remember her; with straight, white dentured teeth like little Chicklets.
Though I can't say it was a big factor of our attraction, I admired my husband's teeth because I thought they had character. They don't look so much like teeth as much as headstones. Like really old headstones from say, 1892. I was told (by his side of the family) that not only do they have character, but they're really durable and cavity resistant as well.
As luck would have it, my husband's genes proved dominant when it came to endowing Zuki with his pearly whites. The tenacious buggers have only recently begun to loosen, which seems late but the dentist assures me there's nothing wrong.
The first tooth he lost last June. He shoved a mouthful of popcorn and chomped his tooth off.
Then the other day, he lost his second tooth. It was during lunch at school. He said it fell out because "the school uses bread that's a lot tougher than the ones I use."
On our walk home, he inevitably brought up the Tooth Fairy.
"I don't think she's real," he claimed.
"Oh no? So who do you think puts the money under your pillow in exchange for the tooth?"
"Mommy and Daddy."
"In that case, can I just give you fifty cents for that tooth?"
He thought about it and decided that perhaps there is a Tooth Fairy and he'll take his chances with her because "She leaves a hundred dollars."
What is she, Let's Make A Deal?
That night, he wrote the Tooth Fairy a kiss-ass note. Either he was still vying for the hundred bucks or he has her confused with Santa Claus.
"I lozed my tooth." He wrote. I told him he should edit the misspelled word to "lost".
He brushed it off. "She won't know the difference - she can't read."
"If she can't read, what's she going to do with your note?"
He paused searching the empty spaces in his head for an answer. "I mean, she can't read English."
I used to think that three-year olds were funniest age. Then, it graduated to four but I have to admit, seven is the year of the budding comic. What more could I do besides fold the note and enclose it in the baggie with his baby tooth and place it under his pillow.
The following morning, he was disappointed because the Tooth Fairy only left a dollar.
Guess she didn't get the memo.