In the excitement of Jeremy’s diagnosis yesterday, I totally forgot to mention that Dr. Ormson moonlights as a Tooth Puller.
After losing his first top front tooth a few weeks ago, the other top front tooth has been getting wigglier by the day. (Is “wigglier” a word?) Anyway, we knew it was coming out soon, especially since Jeremy’s been man-handling it all weekend. As we sat in Dr. Ormson’s office yesterday waiting for him to return, Jeremy fiddled with his loose tooth. He pushed it so far back that it “popped” (his word, not mine) and the very thought of it sent my stomach into a tailspin. I dropped my face into my hands and told him, “Now you have to pull it. I can’t do it.”
Now wait a second, you ask. You have a near-obsession with blood splatter analyst and serial killer Dexter Morgan but you can’t handle a little loose tooth?
Nope. I can’t.
Jeremy tells me his tooth is about to come out, so I turn away from him, hold up my fist in his direction and say, “Just run your face into my fist. That’ll knock it out.”
“Are you serious?” he asks.
“No,” I answer, still not looking at him. “But I’ll get you a tissue.”
I walk around Dr. Ormson’s desk and grab a tissue. Giving it to Jeremy I see blood all around his mouth, so naturally I instruct him to wipe it up and keep pulling.
In walks Dr. Ormson. He sees Bloody Jeremy working on that tooth and the boy’s mother staring at the opposite wall with a jittery leg. He quickly assesses the situation.
“Do you need a tooth pulled, son?” he asks. “Lemme see that.”
In a split second, our new favorite audiologist grabs ahold of Jeremy’s bloody tooth and yanks it from his gums. I heard an “ouch” from my son, but when I turned to see the aftermath all I saw was a bloody, gappy smile. (Is “gappy” a word?)
Here’s the cleaned-up, non-bloody version:
Thanks, Dr. Ormson! You are our hero this week.