Tuesday, March 26, 2013

Tooth Fairy

This morning I got to hang out with a cousin of mine before I left Greenville.  We were talking and laughing about raising kids and how no parents do it perfectly when she said something to the affect of "...Oh yeah, Dan and I joke about saving for our kids therapy instead of college."  We both laugh and she continues with: "...the therapy would probably benefit them more!"
As soon as she makes the joke my mind flashes back to a conversation Mike and I had a few days ago when I tried to sell him on an awesome idea I had come up with.  His response:  "Becca.  You know we are going to have to pay for therapy if you do this."  I think he was expecting this to deter me --He knows how I don't like to waste money.  I, however, took his comment to mean:  "I'm not telling you 'No.' But, I want no part in this."  Fair enough Mike.  Your involvement has been stricken from the record, in fact, I have it recorded right here that you were against it from the beginning.  Jack, Dad's got your back.  Mom... well, she is taking advantage of you, it's true.   But if you read very far back in this blog you'll find you had it coming.  Fair is fair. 
 Despite the warning I proceeded:
It was to be my first tooth fairy gig.  I was excited.  The only other time one of the kids lost a tooth was the result of an accident.  I was in mourning for a couple weeks thus in no mood to celebrate the tragedy.
This all started one morning in the middle of Jack's spring break.  I was in my room casually getting ready for the day.  I was doing things like fixing my hair and texting with some friends while listening to some Jack Johnson on Pandora.  I had closed the door to my room as well as the door that leads from my bedroom into my bathroom.  This seemingly insignificant detail symbolizes how I had temporarily checked out.  I was mentally taking my fifteen-minute break.  In most workplaces it's no big deal (and often encouraged) to leave your desk or register or station and get a breather.  When Moms do this,  bad things often happen.  Things that end with you on the phone with poison control or...
 a loose tooth knocked almost completely out.
Jack came into my bathroom with his mouth wide open and blood dripping.  I got the privilege of pulling my first-born's first tooth.  (sniff sniff)  It's the little things like this that I am so glad I don't miss.

Jack was beaming.  After the bleeding stopped --oh, by the way.  The shirt he was wearing?  It was brand new.  Took the tags off not 10 minutes before the blood stained it (second law of thermodynamics at work here.)  Anyway, Jack was beaming.  He walked around the bathroom hands on his hips with his face turned toward the mirror grinning widely.  "Mom.  I'm just so proud of myself."  He told me.  I smiled.  I was proud of him too.

We took a picture of him and his tooth.  He told me that tonight he would put the tooth under his pillow for the Tooth Fairy.  He carried the new treasure around with him for a while.  Then...  it got... lost.  The lost tooth was lost.  We looked everywhere.  Couldn't find it.  That's when my brain began devising a plan.

"Jack, I think you need to leave the tooth Fairy a note telling her that you can't find your tooth."  I suggest.

He agrees and dictates this note as I write:

It says:
"Dear Tooth Fairy,
I lost my tooth today, but I just couldn't find it.  So... you might find this paper instead.  I'll try to find it tomorrow."
-Jackson Edward Ellis

He thought we should sign it "Jackson Edward Ellis" to avoid confusion.  I agreed.

That night, I snuck up to his room, retrieved the note and wrote a response from the "Tooth Fairy."

"Dear Jack,
I would like to congratulate you on the loss of your tooth!  I am assuming this is your first lost tooth as I have no other paperwork in your file.  Losing the first tooth is exciting and a proud time for any child.  I am happy for you.  I see from your note that the tooth has been misplaced.  This happens frequently, don't worry we will still be able to process your claim, however, it will take a little longer for us to get the paperwork through.  Even though we are a not-for-profit corporation, the U.S. government wants us to keep careful records of every dollar that goes out.  What we need next from you is a written description of the tooth you lost as well as a picture showing which tooth is missing from your smile.  See you tonight!
-The Tooth Fairy"

The next morning he came down with the paper and informed me there was no dollar left.  I read him the note and he seemed to take it in stride.  He went right to the printer, pulled out a sheet of paper and we began to try and meet the Tooth Fairy's demands:

"Probably sharp" was my favorite part. 

He left the paper at the foot of his bed.  The next morning he received a letter on company letterhead from the Tooth Fairy with a lot of legal jargon obviously written by a novice.  Jack didn't read it, he only cared about the dollar attached to the top right hand corner.

I told him he needed to sign the paper and send it back to the Tooth Fairy for her records.

Jack signed both copies.  One he kept for his records and the other he returned to the foot of his bed before we got in the car to leave town.  I think he was wondering how much longer this would go on because he left her a note that said:
"Leveing for 3 days"


And that's it.  Pretty sure I had more fun with this than he did.  But like I said, "Fair is fair."

Monday, March 18, 2013

Lucky to be Texan

The boys and I were talking about St. Patrick's day yesterday.  Jack had learned a little about the holiday from his teacher.  She showed them pictures of Ireland and talked about the history of the holiday.  He learned about leprechauns, pots of gold and the Irish culture.  His teacher is amazing.  we are so "lucky" (read blessed) to have her as Jack's first teacher.  During the conversation I was having with the boys, Jack recounted part of a conversation they had had at school.

When trying to explain what an "Irishman" was, the teacher said to the kids: "All of you were born in Cabot..."

Jack says: "And I raised my hand. And she says: 'Yes, Jack.'  And I said: 'I am not an... an Arkansas.... I am not from Arkansas.  I am from Texas.'"

I grin then ask him what the teacher said next.

Jack: "She said: 'Oh, sorry.'"

Nothing to be sorry about teacher.  Nothing at all --unless you meant you were sorry to accuse him of being from Arkansas.  If so, apology accepted, things like this happen.  We'll move forward from here.