When I am in my fieldwork, the news reaches me that my child has lost his first tooth and checked himself twice in the mirror that day (which he usually does not).
It was a time of terror in my childhood when I was losing my teeth, and I wish I could offer him support and my presence at this difficult time. I saw nightmares; I am quite certain that everyone suffers through this time, and only later, as an adult, forgets about it. Something happens to your body that you do not control. A metamorphosis transfigures you, and it entails these painful and disturbing little losses.
My mom told me that when she or her brother or her sister lost a tooth, they ran to the room from which there was a ladder to the attic. They threw their teeth to the square entrance of the attic and said:
“Мишка, мишка, на тобi костяний зуб, а менi дай залiзний.”
(“Mouse, mouse, take my bony tooth, and give me back an iron tooth,” Ukrainian.)
“We all have iron teeth now,” She said smiling, referring to either veneered or prosthetic teeth she and her siblings have.