I’ve been lamenting the fact that my daughters are fast growing into tweenhood, and thusly leaving behind their girlish ways, and the dolls that go with it.
But I’m comforted in that some things never change.
Tonight after much tugging, twisting, and yanking, Emme extracted a bothersome baby tooth. There was a good deal of carnage, yet no tears. Which is quite the change from some years ago when a bloodied tooth would mean a call to the pediatrician for some kiddie tranquilizers.
She announced that she was going to clean the tooth up and pack it in a requisite snack baggie, and then tuck it safely under her pillow.
Fiddledaddy quipped, “Aren’t you too old for the tooth fairy?”
“Nah. I need the cash.”
And like a ninja, in the dark of night I will stealthily slither into her room tonight to exchange a crisp one dollar bill for a slightly bloodied tooth hermetically sealed in a ziploc.