I Grew Up Brown County

I have chickenpox.
And no front teeth.

Everyone else at school has had missing teeth for ages. Wiggle. Wiggle. Wiggle. Pop! Missing tooth. But it’s taking forever for me to lose one! I’m afraid my baby teeth are going to last forever. Not even the hint of a hint of a wiggle in my gums.

On the first day of kindergarten, Sissy tells me there will be a Pee Detector. It means that if I pee the bed in the night, the next day when I walk through door of the classroom, the detector will go off and everyone will know. Horns blaring. Flashing lights. Just like when they Slime someone on Nickelodeon.

I never pee the bed again.

Finally, my front tooth starts to wiggle. I make the mistake of telling Papaw. He wrestles me to the floor in the living room, like he always does, and starts mashing his fist into my thigh muscle, like he always does. This is the worst kind of tickling. I’m laughing, but it hurts, but I’m laughing. Then he goes for my mouth. YANK! My tooth is gone. Blood is gushing everywhere. Did I mention the other front tooth had wiggled just a bit too? YANK! Both teeth are gone. Even more blood. It’s salty and warm in my mouth.

“Don’t put your tongue in the hole and a Gold Tooth will grow there,” they tell me. But it’s too late. The mushy, fleshy crater is too enticing a sensation to resist, even for a gold tooth. I dip the tip of my tongue in the hole again and again, looking for a sign of the new grownup teeth that are supposed to be growing in there.

On Spring Break, I get the chickenpox. I have itchy, scabby, red dots all over my body. Even on my butt and armpits. Nana uses a scratchy sponge and rubs Gold Bond power on my back, my arms, my legs. This is heavenly. She makes me sit in a vinegar bath too. This just hurts. It stings and smells bad and the water gets cold too fast. I don’t normally like when Nana makes me take vinegar baths anyway, but this is the worst.

My mom wants to take my picture. I have no teeth. I have chickenpox. I cry to her, “I just want my old self back!” What if I stay this way forever? Dotted and toothless? What a horrible fate! No one will ever be my friend or want to sit next to me at lunch or let me borrow their red crayon. I am in a state of abject despair. Mom just laughs. And takes my picture.