This smiling boy in the picture is Jon, my six-year-old son, who two days ago surprised us all at dinner when, suddenly, he told us: "A tooth moves!" For the exclamation, you will surely be thinking that he said it with enthusiasm and impatience, but nothing could be further from the truth, he was scared and even more frightened when I told him that it was normal and that everyone was going to fall (“What? Everyone ?, buaaaaa! ”).
Then we had to resort to the trick of "evil of many, consolation of fools", explaining that all children of their age fall, that we also fell when we were young and then we got bigger teeth and much stronger.
As the thing kept worrying him because he feared suffering (fear was more pain than loss), we explained that there are houses where, when a tooth falls, a gift is given. We thinking he didn't know who the famous mouse was, a character that We did not intend to introduce you because our house will not come and he goes and tells us: "I know, the Little Mouse Perez."
I do not know where or when he has met him, although considering that some of his classmates have been "notched" for some time, they may have talked about it at school. The fact is that at that time we were discolored a little, more when we were trying to calm his anxiety.
We talk about that tooth that comes under your incisor, the one that comes with the desire to stay for a lifetime, big, strong and that needs a little space. We talk about the tooth now, that which has already accomplished its mission, which he has already chewed everything he had to chew and that already deserves an infinite rest.
Then we returned to the theme of the celebration, because as "it is your first tooth, we have to give you a gift". As I am from the humor club (horny who is one, I can't help saying nonsense in situations like that) I told him we would give him a mint gum. "But I don't like it," he said in a long lament, almost dejected and probably thinking that, for that, it is better not to lose his tooth.
"Well, then, a strawberry bubble gum," I said, continuing with the (absurd for a child) joke. "Valeeeee, well, a strawberry chewing gum," he told me again in a voice of regret, but glad to reach consensus. So I thought that what a pity, he was very worried about losing a part of his body that he had been with him for six years, he was afraid of the possibility that the detachment would hurt, and goes your father's idiot and tells him that he will celebrate by giving him a strawberry gum. So that later they say that children want everything. Well, it's possible, but Jon, at least he, it seems not, for now, no.
I fixed the moment by telling him that, as was his first tooth, instead of chewing gum we could give him something better, something like a Lego, phrase that seemed to be more funny than the previous ones. Then he and Miriam started talking about tooth collecting mice that make necklaces with them, because Mr. Pérez, to our house, will not come.
He won't do it because We want to give you something the day your first tooth falls out, it will not come because it is a mouse, a story character who, in order not to exist, is much the admiration that children profess him. We prefer that the gift be ours, from mom and dad: a toy and a thousand kisses. And with the tooth, we do what he wants. Who knows, he still wants to keep it as a memory.
