Tonight, a little while after I left for play practice, Ethan jumped and fell out of the chair and knocked out his bottom front left tooth. I ran home as soon as I got the call. Paul had put it in milk and in the freezer (great thinking in an emergency, I had heard that but never would have remembered). The on-call dentist told us there's no need to bring him in, the tooth fell out on it's own, so chances are they can't put it back in. Maybe we need to get him a grill now. For all you gangstas, you know what I'm talkin bout!
So now he kinda has a lisp, let's just hope it's from the swelling and he's not gonna start whistling when he talks like that annoying kid from "Oklahoma". He wasn't too shook up considering as soon as I got home, he was jumping on the furniture again.
I feel really bad for him, I'm glad that he's not hurt though. Ugh, pictures for the next few years are going to be great. Stork bites, missing teeth, and me and Paul's never ending matching pimples should make for some interesting photography. God is soooo trying to teach me not to worry about physical appearance. I get it, please, no more.
Get ready y'all, the Bertolones are a'comin'...Yee Haw!
Look close, see a hole!?
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