Toothy Accusation

Jonah started losing his teeth soon after the school year began. It was very bittersweet. While I love to see him excited about growing up, every mother is cognizant of the fact that once the teeth start falling out, a kid's cuteness factor starts dropping like one of those free-fall attractions at the amusement park. No one looks at a kid with a mouth full of twisted, half-grown adult teeth and overcrowded baby teeth and thinks, "Wow! That child sure got good genes! Who, pray tell, are his uber-attractive parents?"

When the first tooth became wiggly, I had a frantic desire to get a family portrait taken so I could usher guests into my home and direct them to the photo to show that at one point, my child was indeed very cute. I needed proof. But that never happened, so now I have none.

You'll have to take my word for it.

Eventually, the first one fell out while he was brushing his teeth. The second fell out while he was sucking on a pistachio shell, and I can't even begin to remember how he lost the third one. At that point, his front teeth were gone. All except for one, anyway.

One afternoon Jonah was jumping off the couch and hit his face on a sofa cushion of all things, which knocked his remaining tooth out of alignment so it was just crooked enough that you noticed. The skawonkiness (yes, that is a technical term) of his tooth just got worse as the weeks passed...and then months...until Tyler and I were begging, pleading, and trying to bribe Jonah to just pull the nasty thing out. For some reason, he always resisted, and so we've been looking at his goofy grin for quite some time now.

Yesterday, while eating a granola bar, Jonah announced that his last remaining front tooth had FINALLY fallen out. There was cheering. And dancing. And jumping for joy. At last -- no more crooked, crazy, "billy-bob" tooth. We put it in a Ziploc bag and waited for the evening when it would be placed under his pillow to be exchanged for a Sacajawea coin by the hairy, 33-year old tooth-fairy that is his father.

At 9:00 PM, Jonah got out of bed with his tooth-baggy in hand.

"Mom? I decided I want to write a letter to the tooth fairy."

"Sorry, kiddo. Its way past your bedtime. If you want to wait until tomorrow night to put your tooth under your pillow, we can work on your letter in the morning."

"Okay. I'll wait." [He hands me his tooth] "You keep this safe for me. But MOM --" [He gives me the stink eye and points his index finger at me] "Don't even THINK about putting it under YOUR pillow!"

Please. I know I'm a little strapped for cash these days, but I haven't tried the ol' "steal-the-tooth-and-put-it-under-my-pillow-in-hopes-the-TF-doesn't-know-better" for at least 25 years. I'm way too mature for such shenanigans. Besides, I know the coin is going to be placed in his pocket, and then end up in the washing machine next week anyway.


For those who are curious, the letter said this:
"from...Jonah to..
Dear tooth fairy, i want to see you so can you just get a blanket and go.
P.S. under a blanket."

He's quite the communicator, eh?