Milo's wobbly tooth

Since Monday, Milo's front tooth had been wobbling. He pushed it with his tongue, it leaned forward, then swung back into place. It made a little wet sound, click, and it tickled a bit. Milo couldn't stop.

"It'll fall out by itself," said Dad. "You just have to wait." Milo wasn't sure he wanted it to fall out. A tooth is yours for as long as you can remember. He touched it with the tip of his finger. It danced. "What if there's a hole?" he asked. "There'll be a hole," said Dad. "For a while. Then a big tooth will grow in."

On Tuesday, in the school canteen, Milo ate with half his mouth, like a careful hamster. His friend Yannis watched him. "Show me!" Milo opened his mouth a tiny bit. "Wow," said Yannis, "it's almost lying down! Mine fell out in my sandwich. I found it in the bread, tiny, like a grain of rice." Milo did not find that reassuring at all.

On Thursday evening, Mum put a pear on the table. Milo looked at it, then at his tooth. "I don't want to bite." "You don't have to," said Mum. So he cut the pear into little pieces and chewed on the other side. At the last piece, he felt like biting after all. He wedged it between his front teeth, very gently. Crunch.

Milo froze. On his tongue there was something small and hard. He took it out: a tiny white tooth with a pinkish tip. "Mum!" he shouted. Mum handed him a glass of cold water. Milo ran his tongue over the gap. It was a brand-new place, smooth and soft, that hadn't existed this morning.

"Say 'sun,'" said Dad. Milo said "ssssun," and a little whistle came out through the gap. All three of them burst out laughing. Milo did it ten more times.

Mum took out a small cardboard box, the kind rings come in. Milo laid the tooth on a bed of cotton and slid the box under his pillow. "The Tooth Fairy already visited Yannis," he said. "Will she find my room?" "She has a map," said Dad. "With every bedroom on it."

Milo promised he would stay awake to see her. He listened to the house: the dishwasher humming, a door, a tap. He ran his tongue over the gap again and again, to get used to it. Somewhere near the window he thought he heard a very faint flutter, like tiny wings. He held his breath. Then his eyelids grew heavy, and his tongue settled, quiet, at the edge of the gap.

Later, someone tiptoed into the room. There was a rustle of cotton under the pillow, then a tiny ting, the size of a coin being set down. Milo didn't move. In his sleep he was smiling wide, with his brand-new gap.