All I want for Christmas is my...

Chico, one of our favorite little rugrats, had an accident.

He fell out of a hammock, and landed (on a rock) on his teeth. He came to us the next day, trying to talk and keep his drool in his mouth, and told us the story. He wasn't worried about it, as several friends have lost their front teeth lately.


But Chico's teeth were permanent. The doctors in Rio San Juan told him that they would grow back. Remind me never to get sick in Rio San Juan.

We decided, immediately, that an eight year old would probably need his teeth as he grows up, and that we should help somehow. We contacted friends and dentists in the States, and got an appointment at a well-respected dentist in the town near us.

(That was a hairy experience... you try to convince Chico to let someone plunge a needle into his gums! Let's just say, the morning included chasing Chico down after he broke out of the exam room, six dental assistants holding him down, and bribes of toys, ice cream, and cartoons.)

After the appointment and some email consults from several gracious stateside friends including Dr. Corbyn Van Brunt, the prognosis is this: Chico will probably need a few root canals and either a partial denture or dental implants.

Please pray for Chico - he's a great little guy. We are going to try to get him two front teeth for Christmas. (Email us if you'd like to help.) But even without his front teeth, he can charm a Beanie Baby right out of your hands.