But I have a tendency to do that kinda thing, so I stopped BEFORE I wound up in the wrong town, and turned around in someone's nicely plowed (but still snowy) driveway.
I was pulling back onto the roadway when excitement exploded in the backseat. (That's when the shriek came from that general direction, anyway).
My! Wiggly! Tooth! Came! Out! My! Wiggly! Tooth! Came! Out! My! Wiggly! Tooth! Came! Out! My! Wiggly! Tooth! Came! Out!
I turned around and nearly panicked at what I saw. Annabel's mouth and hands were stained a deep dark red. She was cradelling what I correctly assumed was the wiggly tooth.
A multitude of diffrent thoughts attacked my brain: "... What the ...? Is that blood? I don't remember primary teeth bleeding that profusely? Thankfully she didn't swallow it." ... and finally "... Oh yeah ... she had that leftover strawberry shake thing from the day before that I never removed from her carseat's cupholder. ... It must have been frozen."
Which was indeed the case. The red hands and face were from trying to claw the drink into fluidity again.
Of course, she still scared the pants off some of the other parents at the party. They hadn't remember baby teeth to bleed, either.