2024/7 FAKING OUT THE TOOTH FAIRY

Tessa's fake tooth.

My Brother-in-law, Michael is an oral surgeon. A good one, I understand. He was known as an exceptional surgeon for dental implants. Libby used to drive our mom to CA just so Michael could take care of her. He was thorough, precise and gentle. Besides, he’s an artist, which is a plus when you’re dealing with people’s faces. My whole adult life I’ve joked that as soon as Michael retired I would need a dental implant. Tip #1: do not say such things aloud.

I couldn't find a photo of Mike online, but here's a review report.

Sure enough, he retired and moved from CA to Utah, right into our neighborhood. That makes four of us “Hansen” sisters in one teeny neighborhood going to the same church each Sunday. We’re taking over the ward! And sure enough within a year of him retiring I had a root canal go south and they ended up pulling the tooth. A top tooth, right near the front of my mouth. A “smiley” tooth. It surely cramped my style, taxed my already delicate dental-emotions, and hit the pocketbook somethin’ fierce when we had to go through the “implant” process with no Dr. Mullen to handle it. 

After three hours in the dental chair and coming out without a pivotal tooth, I started the months long wait for my mouth to heal around the foreign matter placed in my jawbone, or whatever it is you call the bone your teeth are planted in. They made me a thing called a “flipper” with a fake tooth in it. I called it a pride tooth, because its only real purpose was to fill the black hole. Tip #2: Keep that flipper in a place you can remember.

$600 for two lost flippers and one completely failed implant later, I was sitting backstage during the third night of my Christmas concerts. Backstage banter with my boys Mark Robinette, Kelly DeHaan, Aaron Ashton and Timo Petersen, includes stuff like "I lost my tooth, Guys!" I lamented that somewhere between last night’s show and tonight’s I lost my second flipper. I was trying not to be distressed, but in less than an hour I would be center stage with a spotlight on my face, trying to sing while trying to hide the black hole in my mouth. We discussed possible solutions: how about one of those cubes of white cheese on the greenroom platter? We wet and folded paper but decided the moisture in my mouth would turn the thing into pulpy mush. I even tried forming a piece of gum into the shape of a tooth, but all I had was Spearmint Extra gum, which is chartreuse green. I ended up smiling a crooked smile and semi-consciously keeping my head turned to the side, distressing Eric who was running sound and trying his darndest to adjust what was happening on my microphone.

What eventually happened, three oral surgeons later, is another discussion for another time. But the matter at hand was that I had several speaking and singing engagements and I was NOT going to order another of those $300 flippers. The thing was not only expensive but it felt like a piece of HiChew stuck to the roof of my mouth. It made me clip my syllables and choke on my own tongue.

“There’s got to be someone who can do temporary tooth better and cheaper than that!”

Enter "temporary tooth" in an internet search. 

A few clicks later I found the solution. Temp Tooth, (and probably fifty other similar products,) offers a perfectly suitable custom made fake tooth for a cool crisp 20 dollar bill, plus a little change. Within one day I was dropping tiny plastic beads in a mug of hot water. The beads turn clear and soft. Roll them into a little soft ball, put it in your blank tooth space, form it around the neighboring teeth, let it cool and turn white again, soak it in some tea if it’s too white, and voila… you’ve got yourself a tooth.

One little container has made me multiple teeth, because I lose them like I lost my flippers.

Today, when we picked-up six-year-old Tess from ballet class, she told us she lost another tooth. 
“I was so excited,” she said “cuz I wanted to put the tooth in one of those little teeny tiny animal boxes for the Tooth Fairy. But guess whaaaaaat?”

Tess has great comedic timing…

“I swallowed it eating a Taquito.”

(This is when having a grandma with too much stuff comes in handy.)

“Wanna make a fake one, Tess?”

That’s how I taught my tiniest grandchild how to make a fake tooth for the Tooth Fairy.

It takes me fifteen tiny beads to make my old lady tooth. Tess needed four.

It actually looked pretty real. Of course it doesn't need to fit in her mouth anymore.

I wonder if she’ll get away with it?