Well, not mine. I have mine. Actually, I want X's two front teeth for Christmas. The ones he's been missing since he knocked them out of place and had them surgically removed at 14 months old. It's been a looooong wait, and we've become very accustomed to seeing him with such a large gap there, sometimes it seems odd seeing other children with front teeth.
Last night, just after he'd gone to bed, he was in the process of one of his many, many bedtime stalling manouvres - fluffing around in the bathroom pretending he needed to pee. He came rushing out with a big grin on his face, saying 'look what I just saw in the mirror mum!!' and flashed his gums at me. To my surprise, there were two healthy-looking adult front teeth starting to poke out. You wouldn't believe the excitement! He turns eight in a little over a month, and this was something I thought I'd never see - I had horrible thoughts of him being toothless through to adulthood, and having to spend thousands of dollars at the dentist getting false teeth (although it should be covered by ACC but you know what mothers are like - they always think of the worst case scenario).
I went to bed very happy last night. But then I had some time to think (which isn't always a good thing) and memories started flooding back about when he had his accident. The blood, the screaming, the week of awful pain he went through before we could get him into a dentist (asleep, because he wouldn't let anyone touch his mouth, it was so sore) and then the crazy rush of getting him to the hospital and waiting, waiting for surgery. My little boy, lying on the hospital bed freaking out when they were putting him to sleep, the panic in his eyes (thankfully it was quick). The wait while he was in theatre. The immense relief when I heard him cry as he woke up.
I guess, as a parent, it's natural to feel guilty when your child has to suffer pain. But a wee thing, barely a year old, having to go through something like that? The guilt!! I've always felt terrible about it - what kind of mother allows their child to fall off their bike and knock out their teeth at such a young age? I remember the questions he had when he started kindy. 'Why does everyone else have teeth, but I don't?' 'Where are my teeth?' Every time he went to see the dental nurse for his check-up, the first thing I would ask was whether those teeth would ever come through on their own.
So here I was, at 11.10pm. Lying in bed, blubbering away like an idiot. Both sad over what he had to go through, and happy that soon, finally, it would be over.