It wasn't even 09.30am and I'd already flushed three cat shits, mopped up The Toddlers thrown spilled cup of water that was attempting to make the carpet grow and discovered Things One and Two's insults they've been leaving each other finger written on the bathroom window.

The day didn't improve.  By evening there was raucous debate between Thing Two and The Husband which resulted in Thing Two running upstairs to hide and of course to cry.  For you see, it was that time again, Toothgate.  Her latest wobbler had been hanging on my a flimsy prayer to some forgotten deity for weeks on end, with Thing Two point blank refusing to pull the dastardly thing out nor allow anyone else to.  Fair enough you might say, however it had reached the point where it was hurting her and interfering with eating.  Not good.  We tried pussyfooting around our little strangeling with gentle suggestions, we tried being fair but firm and eventually we resorted to that age old parenting tool; bribery.  Finally after hearing her whimper at it hurting yet again yet refuse to be helped, The Husband (nicknamed The Volcano by Thing Two) predictably erupted from sheer bloody exasperation at Thing Two's patented brand of stubbornness.  Rather than put the fear of Dad up her it merely fed the demons of bloodymindedness which in turn fueled The Volcano.  Utter buggers, the pair of them.

I managed to skillfully extricate myself from bed without waking The Toddler (hoorah!) and spent nearly 90 minutes attempting to gently soothe and reason with Little Miss Unreasonable  She was having none of it.  Arse.

So let us fast forward to an hour or so later once The Husband had bogged off out on his bicycle to commune with the night or sacrifice chickens or whatever it is he does and I hear a knock on the bedroom door.  Her tooth was hurting.  So starts over another hour of discussing, explaining, reassuring and bribery yet to no avail.  Thing One was getting increasingly pissed off judging by the growls from his room and muttered threats to punch the hellish thing out in a minute if Thing Two didn't shut up soon and The Toddler who was knackered yet refusing to allow me to leave the room without him, was wobbling and rocking sat on the carpet with sleep heavy eyes rolling in the sockets.  Did I mention that The Toddler has caught Thing Two's cough and cold so is poorly too?  Give me strength.  Give me intravenous Gin. She knew the only solution was pulling the tooth out as well as I did.  It virtually swayed when she breathed it was that loose.  I'm getting increasingly exasperated having used up a years worth of patience in one night and she gets increasingly hysterical.  The neighbours must think she's being butchered, she's screaming that loud.  Then comes the hyperventilating to the point she's near retching.  Give me strength. Give me a fucking miracle. Thing One is getting ever closer to slamming her tooth out with his fist and The Toddler is staring blankly at a wall as if tripping on some epic dope.  She attempted to pull it out yet failed.  She agreed I could try but as soon as I got anywhere near her she screeched like a wanton banshee. Terrific.

Eventually she whimpered herself to sleep with tooth in-situ, Thing One performed his usual in bed noisy acrobatics and I took a sleep addled Toddler back to bed.  Bloody wonderful.

Did the night end there? Did it heck as like.  Houston, we have a problem.  Or more specifically vomit.  Thankfully not the chunky variety, just the gooey ectoplasmic crap.  Yummy.

.....and people wonder why I eat chocolate for breakfast.  It's medicinal.

Toothgate

Thing Two had a wobbly tooth or rather she has several yet specifically one really wobbly one as in to say it's hanging on my will power alone.  She could quite literally push the ruddy thing forwards with her tongue and it would stay there.  She's only ever lost two teeth before, one was a freak trauma when she was a toddler and the other happened at school last year and despite it having been wobblesome for a terribly long time her teacher still reported to us that she was traumatised by it.  When I was a child I couldn't abide wobbly teeth, as soon as they begin to wobble i'd ruthlessly extract it, severing the very root with my nails and yanking.  Even now I lumber wobbly teeth in the same camp as feet, both ghastly and absolutely vile, vile as in the thought makes me nauseous and the sight makes me heave tremendously.

We've been subtly hinting for at least a week now that she really ought to pull the bugger out, a suggestion that was met with equal measures of horror and disdain.  Today however, enough was enough, we brought out the big guns.  It's interfering with her eating and she's been worrying her tongue on it frequently becoming increasingly perturbed by it.  The Husband issued an ultimatum seeing as she'd spent a good hour or so sulking, whimpering and crying about the blasted thing, if she didn't pull it out by bedtime; he would. Oh the terror.  Undiluted abject misery flooded her little face.

I stepped up to the mark, I offered to do it instead.  She surprised me and said yes.  Arse.  Even thinking about it causes me to be sick a little in my mouth.  Still, I did it.  I pulled the bastard tooth out and blood was shed yet not a tear.  Hoorah! Mission accomplished. So she gets a visit from the tooth fairy tonight, I do hope The Husband remembers to wear some wings and me?  I  want very much to bleach my brain.

One ah ah ah, two ah ah ah

Thing One has lost two teeth in as many days which now leaves him with four gaps at the top and two at the bottom as well as two adult teeth at the bottom.  He charmingly looks like a baby vampire.  I must admit to feeling slightly nauseated though when he decided to pull the latest one out at the dinner table resulting in a bloody buttie.  The Toddler, not one to miss out, kept pointing at his own mouth and saying 'owwwww'.

I hate this stage of wobbly teeth, I can't even look.  Just the thought of wobbly teeth makes me heave.  When I was a youngling at the mere start of a wobbly tooth I'd reach in and slice through the roots with my nails until I could yank it out, even back then I was nauseated beyond belief by those who leave their teeth until they're hanging on my a shred of thin air and insisted on pushing the offending tooth about with their tongue at every opportunity. 

I'm beginning to wonder if Thing One's actually going to get adult teeth in these gaps, the milk teeth are falling out remarkably quick.