Yesterday, Whitney lost her 11th tooth. It happened at school, so she came home with a little envelope from the nurse’s office. When she opened the envelope, the tooth was in two pieces. She’s not sure if it broke as it was falling out or afterwards. She has a cute little tooth fairy box that she leaves out on her bedside table.
The tooth fairy in our neighborhood doesn’t have a 100% delivery record. Twice, she has not showed up the first night to take the tooth and deliver the money. Interestingly enough, on both evenings, the weather was inclement. I’m guessing travel conditions were difficult. On both occasions, Whitney gave her the benefit of the doubt, but did write with a somewhat stern tone to inquire about what happened. Whitney left her this note last night:
At nine years old, she loves music, dressing up, and playing with her friends. She is still content to curl up on the couch with me and read stories. Her legs now drape up and over me, and she sometimes reads ahead. It’s still special time though, and I know that there are a finite number of years before we are discussing curfews, texting, and weekend plans.
Notes like this make my heart melt, and the magic of the tooth fairy lives. She typically responds with a letter back to Whitney regarding inquiries like this, but her printer was out of ink last night. She was, however, well-prepared with a good stash of singles on hand. Furthermore, despite foggy conditions, she managed to deliver!
