The very first tooth I lost was taken out in quite a violent episode. Okay, not that violent, but my parents had left the house one Sunday afternoon for whatever reason and we were wrestling. I think it might've been just me, Matt, and Brandon. Anyway, being considerably smaller than both of my older brothers, I had to use secret weapons. Like biting. And....yeah, mostly just biting.
So there we were, destroying the TV room for the zillionth time when I launched my prize-winning attack on Matt; I bit his shoulder. I can't remember what his reaction was, but all of a sudden I had the sensation of something small and hard rolling around in my mouth.
I spit it out and VOILA! My first baby tooth had left my mouth in a blaze of glory. Matt's Sunday shirt was stained a teensy tiny bit on the shoulder for a while.
When my parents came home I showed them my tooth and they asked how I lost it. I told them. I can't remember much past this point, but I'm sure their reaction encompassed rolled eyes and raised brows.
My other teeth came out without a fuss. I just pulled 'em. Except for one of my front teeth. It was close to Easter, and I was eating caramel at my grandparents' house. I bit into it and had a weird sensation again. I pulled the caramel back out and there was my big ol' front tooth sticking out of it. It unsettled me, so I threw it away. To this day, that kind of caramel still kind of grosses me out.
Anyway, I'm biding my time till school starts on Monday. I might do some more blogging between now and then. We'll just see.