Last month, the thing we had dreaded the most finally happened: Aya had started teething again. She was right on schedule, because children start losing their teeth around the age of six. Problem is, the milk tooth where the permanent tooth was supposed to move into was a stubborn one. It wobbled a bit, but it didn’t seem ready to give up its place yet.
I didn’t know what to do, honestly. I have very vivid memories of my Daddy wrapping a thread around my tooth and pulling it with all his might. I wailed with all my might in return – although it didn’t hurt that much, the thought of having my tooth pulled in brute force surely wasn’t a happy one.
I consulted Baggy. He only had one advice: go see a dentist.
I wasn’t so sure I needed a dentist to do the job. After all, as far as I remember, none of us kids (in my family) went to a dentist just to have our milk teeth pulled out. And actually, neither did Baggy. Still, he insisted that it was the right thing to do.
Anyway, I consulted my cousin, who is a medical doctor. Her advice was the same: go see a dentist.