Mason and the Wobbly Tooth

Mason pushed the last cushion onto the top of his fort and crawled inside. Every cushion in the house was in it. It smelled like socks and sunshine.

His front tooth was wobbly. It had been wobbly for a whole week. Tonight Mason wanted it out, so he could put it under his pillow, just like his friend Ruby.

Wiggle, wiggle, wobble. The tooth stayed.

He tried his tongue. Wiggle, wiggle, wobble. The tooth stayed.

He tried a crunchy apple. Crunch! There were tooth marks in the apple, but the tooth stayed.

Dad was in the kitchen. Mason could ask him for help. But asking felt bigger than the tooth. "I can do it myself," he whispered.

Something bumped the cushion wall. A wet black nose poked in. It was Biscuit, the dog. He did not care about teeth. He cared about the apple.

"That's mine," said Mason.

Biscuit licked the apple. His whole tail wagged. His ears flopped. He looked so silly that Mason started to giggle, and his lips went wibbly, and he noticed something. When his lips buzzed, the tooth buzzed too.

Mason had an idea. He took a big breath. He stuck out his tongue and blew the loudest raspberry in the world.

"Pbbbbbt!"

Pop! The tooth shot out of his mouth. It flew over the cushion wall, across the hall, and went plink into the bucket by the door.

That was the bucket with the last inch of water that never went away. Nobody ever worried about it. It was just a bucket like that.

Mason ran over and looked in. The tooth sat at the bottom, small and white as a grain of rice. He fished it out with two fingers.

"I did it!" he said.

Back in the fort, he held the tooth tight. He poked his tongue into the new gap. Biscuit flopped down beside him, and his tail went thump, thump, thump on the cushions.