Our Privacy/Cookie Policy contains detailed information about the types of cookies & related technology on our site, and some ways to opt out. By using the site, you agree to the uses of cookies and other technology as outlined in our Policy, and to our Terms of Use.


Confession: My Kid’s Loose Teeth Gross Me Out

I have never thought of myself as being a squeamish person. Growing up, I wanted to be a veterinarian. I worked for one in high school and college, started out mopping floors and cleaning animal cages and ended up assisting in the operating room. None of it fazed me.

My career path changed, but my strong constitution did not.

As a mother I have been peed on, pooped on and spit up on. I have wiped bottoms and runny noses. I have caught vomit with my bare hands. Voluntarily. I have taken it all in stride. Pretty much nothing has grossed me out up to this point. Until now.

RELATED: Motherhood Is Gross

My kid’s loose teeth seriously give me the heebie jeebies.

I remember some time ago a friend of mine posted on Facebook how disturbed she was by her son’s first loose tooth experience. I chuckled a little and scrolled on. Her son is older than my daughter, and I figured we had a ways to go before we would experience it. I also figured I’d be fine with it when our time came.

I was wrong on both counts.

An early teether as a baby, my daughter also became one of the first in her voluntary pre-Kindergarten class to get a loose tooth. I was not even remotely prepared. I found myself frantically searching online for Tooth Fairy ideas.

Over the next four days, she lost both her center bottom teeth.

I sent my friend a FB message. “I totally get what you meant about the loose tooth thing,” I told her. We commiserated for a bit, talking about how disgusting the whole business is. I knew I wasn’t alone.

My daughter made a game out of taunting me with it.

It is a new school year and my 5-year-old is now in Kindergarten. The other day, I picked her up early for a doctor’s appointment. She ran down the hallway to me shouting, “Mommy, Mommy! I have a new loose tooth!”

I managed to muster the appropriate level of excitement. “Really?! Wow. That’s awesome!”

Then she got to where I was standing and opened wide. The tooth was hanging out of her mouth by a thread. Sideways. I almost hurled.

“I wonder when it will fall out…” she mused as we headed to the car.

Very soon, I hope.

That night as we ate dinner, she obsessively wiggled her newest loose tooth, which we referred to as, “Number Three.” I was trying not to look.

Just as I brought a forkful of pot roast to my mouth she says, “Mommy, can you try to pull my tooth out?”

Goodbye, appetite. And also? No freaking way.

“I’m eating my dinner, sweetheart. You should be eating yours. It’s almost bath time. We’ll take a look at that tooth before you go to bed.”

RELATED: Kid’s Confession: I Peek on Boys in the Bathroom

I did suck it up and try to pull it out, but it wasn’t ready. It continued to hang from her mouth precariously for days. My daughter made a game out of taunting me with it.

Before it could come out on its own one morning as she brushed and ended my torture, Number Four was loose. This time, I was on the web searching how many more years we have left of this.

More from kids