The second tooth | dooce
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Good thing I had my fun then, because the party was only getting started. That kid was so pumped on adrenaline that she would not sleep. Jon tried several times to sneak into her room to perform Tooth Fairy duties only to have her sit straight up, her hair a fiery mop of tangles, and go, "HI!" Not freaky at all.
By eleven o'clock I told Jon to go to sleep, I'd set my alarm for 4 AM and sneak in there. Certainly she'd be heavily asleep by then. Certainly. Certainly! Did you know that "certainly" and anything remotely similar in meaning is the Universe's cue to screw with parents? It says so in the Ten Commandments.
I woke up at 4 AM. FOUR O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING. Five dollars in my hand. Yes, that's the going rate in our house for a tooth, and I know we're spoiling her and she'll become a monster. A monster who will want her Oompa Loompa, like, NOW. I mean, her dad is, like, a magician, so where is it?
The moment I touched her doorknob she sat straight up in bed. Let me remind you that it's four o'clock in the damn morning, so there is not a clear thought in my head. And so instead of poking my head in and saying something like, "Hey, heard a noise, are you okay?" I hit the floor. I hit the floor so fast that she didn't see me, and then I army crawled to the side of her bed, if this isn't the most ridiculous thing I have ever written, Heather, you are an idiot.
I lay quietly beside her bed for about ten minutes to let her settle down, and then I reached up, stuck my hand underneath the pillow where Jon had put the tooth, and furiously felt around in the dark. NOTHING. I could not find that tooth, and then I heard Leta sit straight up again. Except this time she said, "Hello?"
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