I don't remember being this excited about losing my first tooth - probably another sign I've moved very, depressingly, far away from my childhood years. Luca at first wanted me to pull the tooth out myself - that went out the door when I told him it would hurt. So he patiently worried the tooth, masticating awkwardly with his molars, waiting for the tooth to pop out of its little place in his bottom gum. Mostly because of the whole Tooth-Fairy-exchange-for-money thing.
Which I fulfilled my duty on. Barely. Cause I had to wait until L was sleeping in order to be able to slip a little something under his pillow without being detected. And so almost fell asleep myself. Until thoughts of having horribly failed my son on this one freakin' important night jolted me back to consciousness and helped me hold on until I heard snoring.
I've already fucked him up enough with the everyday, mundane, MeanMommy moments. I don't need him to bring up the Tooth Fairy forgetting to reward his first lost tooth in therapy twenty years from now. Plenty of other things to take up his 50 minutes.
Anyways - Luca got his five dollars, which was actually half of what my ex-husband's colleague at work gave her son for his first tooth. Yeah, but did he also get a Hot Wheels car? Suck that, highly-paid art director!
I've already made it clear that the Fairy is cutting down on expenses, though, and will not be giving that much for subsequent teeth. It's a recession, you know.
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