I am not a morning person. Not remotely.

I need a full eight hours (or more), and even then, it takes caffeine, time and low soothing voices before I overcome my grudge at disturbed slumber and can feign civility. One of the central rules of the house, more than no hitting or use your manners, is “do not aggravate mommy until she has had a shower and a Coke. Do so at your own peril.”

So imagine my delight when Tate awoke at 6:15, crying. (And as background, it should be noted that something kept me up past 1 a.m. – I’ll post on that later.) She awoke to find her latest loose tooth ready to come out, and she was not happy.

As previously posted, Tate normally handles bumps and bruises with little fanfare, but loose teeth are the source of major ready-for-Lifetime drama. The pain, the fear, no terror, tears, recrimination and finally a hard-won personal victory in the form of an extracted tooth. I can almost see the credits for “Tate’s Journey Into Darkness.”

So this morning, without the benefit of a Coke or a hot shower, I encountered a sobbing, shaking, frantic Tate. It went like this.

“My tooth is loose. I think it is going to come out.”

“Do you want me to wiggle it?”

Screamed directly in my face from six inches away, “NO! NO! NO! NO!.”

“Okay, what would you like me to do?”

More tears, shaking. “I want it out.”

“Then you have to let me touch it.”

“NO. NO. NO. NO. If you touch it, it will come out. And it will bleed.”

“I thought you want it to come out.”

More sobbing.

Repeat this scenario with only slightly different verbiage for TWENTY minutes.

Finally, I looked at Tate and said, “Tate honey, I don’t know what you want here. And I want to do whatever it is YOU want. But I can’t stand to see you this upset. It breaks my heart. I haven’t had a Coke or a shower (at this she looks deeply concerned) and so Mommy is trying very very hard to be patient but I feel a little ready to yell. I don’t want to yell and I don’t want to force you into anything, so how about I just go grab a shower and then we will reevaluate this whole situation once I have?”

At my apparently ridiculously poor attempt at rational behavior, she dissolved into hysterical tears, finally choking out “I want it out. NOW. But with no blood and no pain. And I don’t want to feel it.”

Miraculously, that is what happened. I touched it with a Q-tip, just to pressure test it, and it popped out instantly. She didn’t even know I had done it. As soon as it was out, she looked at it, smiled broadly, walked calmly to the sink, took a deep breath and rinsed. Tate’s long journey through the darkness was over. My head was throbbing.

She immediately called her father at work to tell him the news. He and I have an agreement that he will deal with loose teeth and I will deal with calls from jail. So far the slacker has managed to conveniently be at the office during most lost teeth and most seem to happen right before school. Apparently this family is playing fast and loose with the no aggravating Mommy before a shower and Coke rule.

So, now you have heard my version of the story. This is Tate’s.

“Hi Daddy,” in an angelic, giggly, non-sobbing voice. “Guess WHAT? My wiggly tooth? I lost it. And as soon as it was out, I took a deep breath and rinsed my mouth and I DIDN’T EVEN CRY.”

Um. Yeah. Whatever kid, I am hitting the shower.

And, apparently, the tooth is going in the book bag today, so my burning question of last night has already been answered. What a morning. Where the hell is my Coke?