Last Friday afternoon the boys bounded off the school bus, all limbs and backpacks and sweaty buzz cuts. It was the start of a four-day weekend, and everybody was bursting with excitement.
“AbunchofmyfriendsaregoingtoplayfootballrightnowintheHall’syardCanIgotooCanIplayCanIgonow HuhCanImomCanImomplease?” Kid D asked before we even reached the house.
“We are going to movie night on the lawn at your aunt’s house right after dinner, but you can go play for a while. Promise me you’ll call when you get there. And be home by 5:45.” I guarantee he didn’t hear anything after “go play,” but he is eight and I’m learning that’s just how eight-year-old boys work/ don’t work.
About and hour or so later, there was a knock-knock-knock at my side door. In came Kid D, along with Football House Mom II (not to be confused with FHM I – If You Have to Poop, Go Home), and her son. She led with, “Um, the boys had a little accident…”
I stayed very calm. Kid D was being brave, but as soon as he saw me the dam broke and the tears started flowing. FHM II explained that Kid D had collided with another friend and he had apparently lost a tooth as a result. The blood was flowing generously from his mouth, so I really couldn’t see much of anything. I asked if they knew where the missing tooth went. Did it jam up into his gums? Was it somewhere on the lawn? Did he swallow it?
“We’re not sure. It might very well be in the other kid’s head.” Awesome.
FHM II and her son left to check on the status of the other kid. I gave Kid D some salt water and told him to start swishing and spitting. After he cleared away some of the bloody mess, I was able to determine that most if not all of the tooth was indeed gone from his mouth. The rest should fall out on its own because, luckily, it was a baby tooth. His permanent front tooth next to the new hole was a slight bit wiggly, but I wasn’t too worried. And conveniently, we had dentist appointments scheduled for first thing Monday morning so I would have the experts confirm that he was fine in a few days.
I texted with the other kid’s mom and she confirmed that he was hard-headed and doing just fine. He was worried that he might have a “discussion” from the bump on his head, but there was just a red mark. No broken skin and no “discussion.” Whew.
So I had Kid D swish and spit a little while longer so the blood would stop spewing forth. Then I Motrinned him up and he felt much better. We even brought FHM II’s kid with us to watch Hotel Transylvania outside at my sister’s house. It was a beautiful night and the movie was funny and the kids (as well as the grown ups) had a good time. It was late when we finally got home and put the boys to bed.
The next morning, Kid D was very disappointed. Apparently, the tooth fairy had failed to make an appearance and he felt gypped. And surprisingly, he found no solace in my explanation: “I believe the rule is – no tooth, no money. Sorry, big guy.”
Kid D was having none of that nonsense, so he set out writing a letter to the tooth fairy. And when I asked how the tooth fairy would know if he was telling the truth or not, he insisted that I sign off on his note as a witness.
The very next night, the note went on his nightstand, front and center.
And he found this waiting for him in the morning:
I guess it is “no tooth, no money,” unless you leave a polite, semi-notorized note.
Over the years, our tooth fairy seems to have taken a whole lot of liberties. Is it just me, or does the tooth fairy seem like she/ he really makes up most stuff up as they go along? And she/ he really should be better prepared in the future by having change on hand. I’m just saying.
P.S. I also believe that my kids need some more work on spelling.
Wish me luck for tomorrow…