There was much wailing, but no gnashing of teeth

Today, at the splash park, I made the grievous error of buying the nut a white ice lolly, and he made the mistake of biting it instead of licking it. The wobbly produced a lot of blood at this point, glistening on the white surface in a way that would imply imminent death.

Such screams! Such wails were heard! Much longing for innocent carefree days of being four, I cursed by the foul thieving tooth fairy and her reign of pain and terror.

I coped in my usual way. There's a present in the airing cupboard. It's giant. Shut up and I'll let you have it.

Having shut up and happily ensconced in the lounge with the angry bird Jenga Death Star that has been the object of his love for over a year (amazon did that thing where it became suddenly unfeasibly cheap) the nut became quite amenable to the loss of teeth.

'Wobble it. Wobble it for three shots at the death star'
And lo the tooth wobbled, how it wobbled. But it didn't come out. Not even at dinner, like peppa pigs did. I knew that pig was a liar.