The Toothless Wonder
Three hours past our departure time, my husband, Lyle, and I, and our two teenage daughters, were finally pulling away from our southern Alberta home. We were on our way to the State Fair in Great Falls, Montana, but the way our car was packed, it seemed like we were off on a world tour.
I was looking forward to six days of rest and relaxation. No cooking, no early mornings, and plenty of my favorite hobby—retail therapy. We had a poolside room and our girls were ready to find their swimsuits and head to the water. However, my husband (the practical one) decided we would have supper first, before the swimming suits came out of the suitcases and everyone headed for the pool.
After a delicious Mexican dinner, I hurried back to our room because I had something stuck under my upper partial plate. As I hurried into the powder room, I took out my “two front teeth” and laid them on a tissue next to the sink. After I brushed my teeth, I wiped off the counter, threw the paper and tissue into the toilet, and flushed. I turned around to get my teeth, but they were nowhere in sight. I ran around the hotel room crying, praying, and hoping that I would find those teeth, but I knew in my heart they were gone—flushed—adios—good-bye.
My family returned to find me flustered and crying. They were clearly concerned, but before I told them what happened to my poor teeth, I made each one promise not to laugh. It did not help one bit. By the end of my story, they were rolling with laughter and asking to see my toothless smile, which only brought more uncontrolled laughter.
I decided right there my vacation was over. I wanted to go home. I told my family I could not spend the rest of the week without my two front teeth.
“Oh yes you can,” my husband said. “All you have to do is keep your mouth shut and no one will know.” Now why didn’t I think of that?