Two (Improved) Front Teeth for Christmas

I am pretty much convinced that my dad does cool stuff for me from Heaven.

Like, I do not think it's a coincidence that the tiniest corner of one of my front teeth just happened to come out in mouth the other day at swim practice.  I wasn't chewing anything, but all of a sudden - something gritty between my molars.  Tongued the something, transferred it to the tip of my finger:  yup, tooth colored.  Then I felt the tiny chip (which, because it was in my mouth, felt like the Grand Canyon).  Called my dentist the next morning to make an appointment, either to have it buffed out or filled.  I am all about prevention these days, and no sense walking around with something jagged in my mouth that could catch on another something and create a much larger (and more expensive) problem.

I have always been good about going to the dentist and consider regular checkups, cleanings, etc. to be wonderful, positive things.  My dad:  HATED the dentist.  And had the not-great teeth to show for it.  But he knew, and appreciated, that I felt differently about dentistry, and he complimented me on my attitude with regularity.

He also knew that I have always hated my front teeth.  They were buck teeth, for awhile.  Braces fixed that, but once the teeth were properly oriented (pointing straight down) it became apparent that they were a good bit larger, and slightly longer, than they probably ought to be to be in proportion with the rest of my choppers.  Drawing attention to this fact:  the right one was longer, and not straight across at the bottom.
What's worse than two kinda-rabbit-y front teeth?  One that's more rabbit-y than the other.

Once upon a time, I asked a dentist about filing both of them down, and he gave me a ten-minute diatribe about enamel erosion and yada-yada, so I resolved to live with my uneven rabbit teeth.

Then chip happened - to the outside corner of my elongated tooth.  And today I went to see my dentist (the marvelous Diana Raulston - seriously, she is marvelous, in every way), and the dental assistant opined that, as small as the chip was, no filling was likely to be needed - just a little smoothing.

Then in came Dr. R. - and, after confirming that we were talking "file," not "fill," she said the magic words:

You know, I think that tooth is too long, and that might be why it catches on stuff.  Want me to shorten it?

You can do that?

Sure.  I mean, I don't want to take off too much - you can always remove, but you can't add back.  Well, you CAN add back, but - you know.

Yes, I know.  And, YES, please shorten it.

She did.  It is now the same length as its partner - for the first time in EVER.

Such a small thing - but I cannot tell you how happy it makes me.  It is a good thing that I was the only person in the elevator on the way back up to the office, because I could not stop looking at my two front teeth, and smiling - much wider than I usually do, because I have no need to hide the bottoms of those teeth behind my bottom lip anymore.

I am convinced that Daddy set this all in motion, as a Christmas gift of the type that only an all-knowing, all-seeing, otherwordly person could provide. Angel wings look soft and fluffy, but they are deceptive.  If you put your weight behind them, and angle them just right, you can chip a tooth, just so.

Thanks, Daddy.  Front teeth for Christmas may be a corny cliche, but I love mine - for the first time in EVER.  And I will love you forever as well.