My mom noticed. “Sarah, why are you eating like that? Is it your tooth? It’s okay if you eat on it. That will help it come out.” I shook my head. No way. That might be bad. That might hurt. After dinner, Momma called me over. “Let me see your tooth, Sarah.” I didn’t move. “I promise I won’t touch it. I just want to take a look.” “You promise?” I cried from across the room. “I promise.” “Really?” “Really. I promise.” I inched towards her, crossing my arms around my little body. She placed one hand on my back and the other underneath my chin. “Okay, sweetie, open up.” I hesitated for a moment, then did as she said. Her hand went straight for my tooth. I shrieked and tried to run away, but her hand on my back had me trapped. I felt a great pressure on my tooth, a sharp twinge, and then a spurt of something warm and metallic. “Ouch!” I clasped my mouth. “There, it’s all over now. Wasn’t that easy?” I looked up at her and lowered my eyebrows. “Here, look,” she took my hand and dropped my tooth in it. “Now the tooth fairy can come and see you.” My eyebrows shot up and my heart leaped. The tooth fairy! I cradled the little, white tooth in my hand. “When will the tooth fairy come? Where do I put my tooth? How will she know where to find it? How much do you think she will give me?” My mom smiled, and I smiled back. I never let her look at my loose teeth again. I learned how to rip them out on my own after that. In second grade, I learned from the kids at school that I had buck teeth, and I learned that that was bad. “What’s wrong with your teeth?” “Your teeth stick out.” “Why can’t you close your lips over your teeth?”
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