A Job for Crazy Grandma

Last night my daughter called,

"Can you come over right now? Brenden needs that tooth pulled out and he won't let anyone but you do it."

"He could do it himself. Didn't he pull the last one?"

"Yes, but this one hurts, and he absolutely won't let me anywhere near it.

He says YOU are the only one qualified to do it!!!

It has to come out. It is driving me NUTS!"

"I am doing something right now. I can't come over. I will see the kids tomorrow. I will pull it then."

My daughter sounds deflated, "Okay. Tomorrow."

15 minutes later the phone rings again.

All I heard was a curt, "We are coming over."

The phone went dead.

This is the difference between mothers and grandmothers.

Us grandmas have the grace to do things in the morrow.

Mommas have to get things done when they can.

And that means when it is right in front of their faces.

Like a seven year old boy whose front tooth is hanging on by a teeny tiny bit of a root.

When they arrived, I, the consumate tooth puller, checked B's mouth and proclaimed the tooth 

was indeed ready to be pulled.

I sat the boy down, and told him what to expect.

"Okay. Looks like it is connected right here. So, I am going to have to tilt your head

just like this,

I'm going to put my fingers here,

and then I will ...." 

I immediately started pulling, attempting to get 'er dun.

"aow, Aow, AOw, AAAOOOWWW!!!! 

STOP!"

So I quit.

We reassessed.

Then tried again.

There was simply too much pressure, with every one in the room looking on and all.

Still no luck.

By this time, the boy was about to renig. I realized I had to get the tense situation under control.

Just he and I trotted off to the bathroom,

well little sister wanted in on the action too.

So there we were, just the three of us standing in front of the mirror.

I showed him how swollen his gums were, and explained why the thing HAD to come out NOW.

B always needs a logical explanation about what is going on before you can get his cooperation.

Once he understood the gravity of the situation,

he agreed to be put in what amounts to a power hold on his head.

Yes, the situation had come down to grannie needing to put the boy in a headlock

in order to get the right angle on that darned tooth 

which apparently wanted to be in his mouth until the day he got married.

Nope, I would not allow that to happen.

The boy clearly knew what he was talking about.

This WAS a job for

Crazy Grandma!

So I locked him to my left bosom,

tilted his head back so I could get the right angle,

got my finger around the stubborn tooth,

and yanked the hell out of it.

I can still hear him yelling,

S T O P !!!!!

But I was determined. I could not let either mother nor grandchild down now.

That little bitty root was hanging on for dear life.

It did not win.

I did.

After the small amount of bleeding stopped,

we once again surveyed his mouth.

By this time his mother came to see what all the yelling was about.

We weren't crying, 

we were doing a victory dance.

B immediately directed his mother to, "Text the Tooth Fairy."

She complied.

This morning when he arrived for the day, he informed me

"I still have a gooey hole, but it doesn't hurt much.

Do you know why I qualified you to do the job?"

"No, B, why?"

"Because you are tough, grandma. I knew you could do it despite me being afraid."

What planet did this boy come from?

Who says stuff like this when you are only seven years old?

"Thanks B. I will do anything to help you. You know that makes me feel really good

that YOU know I will take care of you, no matter what."

"Yeah, and when you get really old, I will take care of you too!!!"

"Thanks, B. I feel safe now."

"You are welcome Grandma. I love you."

"I love you too, B."