Last night John and Mary were sidling up to the bathroom counter to brush their teeth. John was hoping around uncontrollably the way that three-year-old boys do when he got too close to the counter, and his mouth smashed on the counter on his way back down from a bounce. I was standing right that and heard a big CRACK! sound.
My stomach lurched and I thought, 'oh no, this is bad.' Visions of my son having teeth dead (grey) or broken in half flashed into my head. John stood there stunned.
I got onto my knees and opened his mouth and saw flecks of white stuff all over his tongue and in his mouth. 'Oh no, there are flecks of his broken teeth . . . '
"Chris! Get in here! I need help!"
Meanwhile, John wasn't crying, which is not like him when he is injured. He was just standing there stunned. Chris came in, looked at the counter, and proceeded to show me two perfect tooth-shaped bite marks out of the hard counter top. Those white flecks were not John's teeth, but were the counter itself! I couldn't believe it. We had him rinse out with water and all was well.
Thank you, Guardian Angel!