He came prancing into our room this morning, waving about his tooth and holding a Kleenex to his mouth. Both floss and string slid right off yesterday, and simply tugging on it did no good. We finally gave up, and I instructed him to wiggle it a lot and even twist it. Then I ran screaming from the room with my hands over my eyes, then over my ears, then back over my eyes.
I am a big wienie and have not-great memories of my own tooth travails. No fewer than three had to be yanked by the dentist, and neither a needle to the gums nor that crunching sound are never really forgotten. Shudder and gag.