Sophie has lost her fourth tooth.  It happened the other evening and caused just as much excitement as when her first tooth came out.  This one had been hanging on by a thread but was extremely stubborn.  She dutifully put the tooth in her little tooth fairy box, but when she woke up the following morning, she came to me in the bathroom with tears in her eyes because, “Mommy!  I didn’t get a dollar! The tooth fairy forgot me!”

Shit.  I explained, in a raised voice so my husband could hear, that the tooth fairy must have had a very busy night and was running late.  Sophie thought I was pulling her chain, but just as I started to think that this was the end of fairies and Santa Claus, Papa came to the rescue.  “Sophie, your dollar is there.  It was underneath the box, not in the box!” he exclaimed.  Our little one was immensely relieved.  I was just glad that the spell hadn’t yet been broken.  Because as jaded as I am, there’s something warm and fuzzy to be said for a kid who hasn’t yet succumbed to myth-busting.