Wobbly teeth

Our eldest started complaining the other day that one of his teeth was wobbly. He's quite an imaginative child, so I didn't take that much notice at first (bad dad). But sure enough, he's correct. The upper left incisor shows distinct signs of movement.

This perplexes me as it seems too early. He is four and a bit years old, and according to a cursory search, teeth do not usually start to fall out until about six. [Newsflash. Somebody else says they can drop from about four - he's not a freak.]

At the moment he seems quite unbothered by it, which is good. However I feel guilty that we haven't got him registered with a dentist, and that we've been pandering to a growing sweet tooth of late (he takes after me in that respect).

He does brush his teeth every day, which is good, but I'm now worried that he'll end up looking like a gummy lad who comes from a deprived household where your five a day is boiled sweets, biscuits, cakes, crisps and pop.

Growing up, I had cousins like that. They drank nothing but fizzy drink when growing up (according to my completely non-judgemental mother) and chomped on sweeties like it was the end of rationing. The result, I remember quite clearly was that they had gaping, rot infested cake holes for a good part of their childhoods until their adult teeth came in. Funnily enough now they look like the Osmonds, such is their toothiness, but at the time they were a cautionary tale about the perils of not looking after your teeth.

Coming from the Central Belt of Scotland, where tooth decay was a rite of passage, I'm rather aware of how important this is. In my extended family false teeth were the norm. It was partly a generational thing. People routinely has their teeth removed as dentures were considered to be less trouble. I'm currently reading a biography of Clash frontman Joe Strummer, who had appalling teeth, and apparently he refused to brush his teeth while at boarding school as a lad, so they would fall out and he could have fake ones like his dad.

Mind you I'm not surprised that people neglected their teeth in the Seventies as a visit to the dentist was quite a horrible experience. That's certainly how I remember it as a child. I can still conjure up the taste of the gas that they gave me for extractions. I don't think this completely knocked me out as I have a vivid image of spooky cartoon like figures dancing about in front of me, only to wake up soon after feeling really nauseous with a sore mouth. I'd leave the dentists clutching a blood stained hankie to my mouth, probably to be rewarded with a bar of Highland Toffee.

For years I didn't go to the dentist. I kidded myself that this was because of my semi-itinerant lifestyle as a student and in the post university years, but really I think it was because I was scared of going. About eight years back I noticed that my teeth were quite discoloured and I eventually plucked up courage to go back thinking that I was bound to have a backlog of dental work waiting.

Amazingly, after almost 20 years absence, I only needed a  bit of a clean. Since then I've tried to be a bit more conscientious with regular check ups.

I don't want to pass on my phobias to the kids, but was not sure when the right time to start taking them to the dentist was. The answer is probably 'before now' but the wobbly tooth incident has forced my hand and we'll have to get them both registered as soon as. I'm sure dentists have become a bit more child friendly over the years, so and I'm on the lookout for a good one in Colchester - suggestions please.

On a broader note, the toothy episode is a poignant reminder how kids keep growing. They don't stay little for long. I was giving J his night time cuddle a few days ago and told him that I'd have to make the most of this as soon he probably wouldn't want a cuddle (or a schnuggle to give it the rather icky name I created).

"Don't worry daddy, I'll always have a schnuggle for you," he replied.

[Heart breaks!]