Louise got her baby teeth way late. And she's losing them way late. Finally, at the grand old age of seven (almost eight), she's lost her first one. And even it took its sweet time going, wobbling in ever wider gyrations for at least two weeks. (We were tempted to try the old string-to-the-door-handle.) Finally, this morning, it yielded to its fate. Louise was quite pleased:
Apparently, in the decades since my youthful tooth-shedding, the rewards have gone up—as high as $10, according to the word on the schoolyard. But our own resident tooth fairy says "Hell no!" to that and has settled on $5 for the first tooth an some to-be-determined lesser sum for those that follow.
And June, sharing in the excitement, decided to compose her own note for the new visitor—illustrated by herself, dictated to and transcribed by Louise:
Can you make that out?
"I love you tooth fairy. My siters name is Louise. We have a very Prettey house. This is a picture of you. I have a blue Elphant tape musurer* and a polly poket phone**. bye. my Name is June"Oh Lord, those kids are funny.
* A "blue elephant tape measurer". Yeah, it's weird, but that's exactly what it is.
** A "Polly Pocket phone"—a trashy little pink plastic toy phone that spits out teenie-bopper sayings, which we bought for Louise at the drugstore in the rattled days immediately after Katrina when we were stuck in Memphis with next-to-nothing in the way of toys. In the subsequent years, it has somehow refused to get lost or run out of batteries and has passed down to June who now proudly marches around the house with it, practicing her bopper-chat.