Day Two Hundred Thirteen

ALERT.

ALERT.

HOUSTON, WE HAVE A PROBLEM.

If you've been around these parts for a while, you know that I don't do teeth. Like, I REALLY don't do teeth. Everything about them is stupid and gross and, really, the only way I can deal with teeth is when they stay in people's faces and act all healthy and stuff. I find it profoundly stupid that babies go through hell to get teeth only for them to fall out a few years later.

And don't ask about my personal experiences with dentists. There was that whole thing with lingual nerve damage where half my tongue was numb FOR AN ENTIRE YEAR because a dentist screwed up. That was followed by an infection that made my face look like I was sucking on a golf ball. Oh, and remember when a sidewalk attacked me and I ended up watching a dentist remove the nerves from my front teeth because the reflection was RIGHT THERE and I couldn't not see it?

That was a year ago this week, by the way. This week a year ago was sooo bad.

And then there's the time that Mila had to have her 2-year molars ripped out of her face because they were badly decayed mere months after they came in. THAT WAS FUN. Or the opposite of fun.

The point is, if I had really thought through this whole second kid thing, I might have considered that I'd have to survive another round of baby teeth falling out and ... I can't swear that every minute of every day with Mila is worth dealing with that again.

But here we are.

Mila has her first loose tooth. In typical Mila fashion, it's not one of the teeth that usually falls out first. In also typical Mila fashion, she actually had no idea that she had a loose tooth. I knew it because I could see that the tooth has shifted and then she was talking and ...

there was flapping. Tooth flapping.

::puke::

I know I should be grateful that Mila is like a year late starting this whole tooth party, but uuuuugh. 2020 should not be allowed to add any more drama or vomit-inducing chaos.

But here we are.