shaken up

after the drawn-out angst of losing his first two teeth a year ago, liam's third to go was surprisingly easy.  it seemed a bit loose on friday -- loose enough that i packed his tooth fairy pillow in the suitcase before heading back down to the beach.  but i didn't think we'd actually need it before returning home on tuesday.  an hour later, it was history.  shows you how much i know.

no lost tooth in the mann family can happen without some sort of story attached.  so let me set the scene, which, looking back on it, was somewhat comical, although at the time it didn't seem so.  we'd just pulled out of the mcdonald's drive-through, all four of us sipping on our own chocolate milkshake, traveling the well-worn path down I-40 to topsail island.  i knew from past experience that we were embarking on a good fifteen straight minutes of silence as the kids focused all their energies on sucking every last drop through those striped yellow and red straws.  chris and i were especially grateful for these these fifteen upcoming minutes, given the fact that we'd just played 547 rounds of "i spy".

and then, far too early, the silence was broken.  liam asked, "mommy, can you fix my tooth?"

i should have paused.  given my history with loose teeth, i should have really considered what i was about to face before turning around.  because really, what good can come out of "mommy, can you fix my tooth?"  what does that mean, anyway?

but i did no such thinking.  instead, i immediately swiveled around, came to face to face with his bloody tooth dangling from his gumline ... and gagged.  i had just enough time to pry the plastic top off my cup before heaving into my milkshake.

i was so bummed.  it was a delicious milkshake.

while i was taking care of my own problems, chris was left to do some serious multi-tasking.  for not only was he driving the car at 75 miles per hour, but he was glancing back at liam to see what he needed, finding a napkin, helping him dab up some of the blood from his mouth, and somehow sliding that errant tooth back into place.  but would you believe that despite all that he had to deal with, he still managed to marvel at how apparently ridiculous my reaction was? "gracious, sara.  get a grip!  it's a tooth, for crying out loud.  this is insane.  you went through natural childbirth -- twice -- and somehow toss your cookies when you see a loose tooth?  what in the world?" etc.  whoever said that men can't do more than one thing at a time has not met my dear husband. 

but even more impressive than chris's multi-tasking was how coolly and calmly liam handled the whole thing.  i guess after going through it twice, he's now a seasoned veteran.  all was quiet again in the back seat for five more minutes, and then he leaned forward in his booster seat, said, "here you go, daddy," and handed him his extracted tooth.  chris took it, thanked him, and put it in his shirt pocket.  and then both of them returned to their milkshakes. 

i, sadly, did not.