November 04, 2011

emma dear

I broke my tooth yesterday. The very back, bottom right side one. Broke right in half.
I go to the dentist like, never. I've been about four times in my entire life.
The last time I went, they said, You have cavities.
I said, Ok. How much to fix it?
They were like, 40 million bucks. Plus your arm and leg.
I was like, See ya.
And since it never hurts at all, I've pretty much forgotten about it until yesterday when I was eating a sandwich and I felt something unchewable mixed in with my sandwich and I took whatever it was out and looked at it and thought, What the heck is a chunk of animal bone doing in my grilled cheese? That's so weird! The FDA totally missed that one...
But then Emma cheerfully piped up from next to me, That's your tooth! You lost a tooth!
And so I felt around in my mouth and sure enough, that was 50% of my tooth in my hand.
And then I had four thoughts:
1. I'm going to miss my arm and leg.
2. I'm missing my tooth. I'm a hillbilly.
3. Now people can call me Broken Tooth. Since I'm like, one sixteenth Indian and all.
4. Too bad I don't believe in the tooth fairy anymore. I could totally use the money.

You should see what's left of my tooth. It's the grossest thing ever. I'm completely horrified at the sight of it. But I'm also fascinated.
It's a dilemma.
The fascinated part of me keeps staring at it in the mirror. (By the way, never stare at your gross broken tooth in the visor mirror while driving down Division in Spokane. It's perilous.) And then the grossed out part of me gags and says, Sick! and I shudder at the sight. But then I keep staring.
So it's like this vicious cycle... I stare... I gag... I say Sick!... I shudder... I stare some more.

Anyway, I'm thankful for Emma.
Because when Karen told her to write "fill" in a sentence for school, she wrote,"Oh hi, Phil! You're my neighbor!"
Because she believes I'm the best teacher ever. (Sorry, Karen. That's what she said.)
Because she's the most energetic hugger in the world.


And because without her, I'd have wondered, for the rest of my life, how the heck that chunk of animal bone got in my grilled cheese.