Last night, about 11, Stella came downstairs to tell me she was hungry. She ordered the usual: "toast with peanut butter, with the crusts cut off, like a sandwich." When her order was up, I served her at the kitchen island and headed back to my studio to "take care of just one more thing." In less than five minutes, I was on my way out of the studio when I heard a bang like a gun going off and a scream from Stella. She had managed to push the counter stool backwards, and had sailed with it to the tile floor. Apparently on impact, her front tooth came out and lodged itself in her lower lip. Crying, bleeding and gagging ensued (yes, from Stella; not me). A phone call to my sister the nurse helped me feel pretty certain that Stella did not have a concussion. (Thank you for all your help, Mo.) The crying and the bleeding from her tooth stopped relatively quickly, but I couldn't tell if the tooth had come out completely or gotten broken off. By midnight, Stella, Dennis and I were in bed, and the alarm was set for 2:00, so I could make sure Stella could be awakened. I didn't need the alarm. I couldn't really fall asleep until about 4:00. Stella was awake enough when I roused her, and she nursed a lot during the night.
Thankfully, this morning, I was able to confirm that the whole tooth came out, but I'll be phoning the dentist on Monday to make sure everything's OK. Stella doesn't seem too much worse for the wear. (I can't quite say the same for myself.) At lunch, she explained to me that she had to chew with "this side, at the bottom, not at the top." She also told her siblings, "Daddy is going to buy me a new tooth." When asked about her preferences, she mentioned the words "sparkly" and "purple."