Dental Logic

I still have a baby tooth. It’s never fallen out, never been under my pillow, because there’s no adult tooth underneath my gums pushing it out. Only now it’s loose, really loose, and my dentist insists it has to go. I’ll be sorry to lose it, the sole vestige of my much younger self. I’m a little nervous, almost superstitious, about getting rid of this tooth. I’ve had it for over 60 years. (Notice I don’t say for exactly how long I’ve had it.) When it goes, will that mean I am irrevocably an adult, no chance at ever being young again?

I felt like a child at the dentist today. He said a weird thing to me today after peering into my mouth and passing final judgment on my baby tooth. “How are you managing?” he asked. And then as if answering his own question, he said, “You look great. You’re a real cutie pie. Have you started dating yet?” I’m still puzzling over that equation. And I still have all my teeth.