Letter to the Tooth Fairy
One night I went to sleep and the next day my fat little baby was six years old. All lanky arms and legs that poke and wrap and are starting to smell. His hair grows so quickly you’d think we sprinkle him with Miracle Gro every night. (It doesn’t help that I rarely take him for a haircut, and now it’s to the point where I might as well wait until we’re on vacation so Grampa can take him to the barber shop.)
With the loss of his first front tooth, it seems Kyle is officially in that gawky little boy stage. He walked around with this tooth hanging by a string for weeks. Finally it fell out, leaving the proverbial gap – but a new tooth already visible in its place! Alas, when the tooth fell, Kyle didn’t see where it went, and if you’ve ever tried to get a 6-year-old to retrace his steps so you can find what he lost, then you will understand the two of us on hands and knees scrutinizing the berber carpet in the upstairs hallway. I have no idea where that darn tooth went.
Undaunted, Kyle decided to write a letter to the tooth fairy explaining what happened so that she would still leave a gold coin under his pillow. He did this all by himself, with minimal spelling help from me.
The problem was that both Kyle and Brady have been coming into our bed at night a lot lately. It seems that when they wake up in the dark, something in their little minds tells them that the appropriate thing to do is shuffle down the hallway to our bed, despite the heat, and snuggle up with us. Intellectually I actually love this because I am all too aware of how fast time is flying by us. Physically, however, it sucks. There is too much dragon breath and sweaty boy arm happening up in our bed at night. Stewart ends up on the couch downstairs because he just can’t bear to move them since they “look so peaceful.”
Kyle ended up in our bed the night he lost his front tooth. While Mom and Dad were roused from their sleep and never really got back to a good night’s rest, the note to the Tooth Fairy stayed under his pillow, in his bed, in his bedroom. In the morning, Kyle sprang out of our bed and ran to see if she had come. He stomped back into our room, terribly disappointed. “She must not have come because I wasn’t in my own bed,” he grumbled.
So last night he made sure to remain in his bed. And lo and behold, he was rewarded with a gold coin.