The Art of the Well Written Note

The tooth fairy is my least favorite of the magical characters.  She's a bit forgetful, and not very prompt.  Sometimes she shows up a couple of days late, at least around here.  And her demanding those teeth?  C'mon.  Doesn't she know that six, seven, and eight year olds lose everything?  How in the world are they supposed to keep track of those miniscule teeth?

The phrase "I lost my tooth!" is always accompanied by tears.  We should know.  I don't think Griffin has gotten any of his first four actually under the pillow.  Instead he has had to settle for a note of explanation which he hoped the tooth fairy would honor.  She did. 

Tonight, though, I really thought we had it.  He managed to get home from school with it still in his pocket.  After he dropped it on the back patio, we were able to locate it.  When he misplaced it after dinner, he was able to find it.  But then, just as he was brushing his teeth before bed, I heard the other shoe drop in the form of heartbroken sobs.

"What happened?" I asked as I hurried toward the bathroom.

He met me outside the door, tears streaming down his face.  "I lost my tooth."

Man, we were so close this time.

"It went down the drain!" he cried.

"Oh, no.  Were you trying to make it nice and shiny?"  I guessed taking in the wet toothbrush, puddles of water, and copious amount of toothpaste covering the vanity.

"Yes.  And then I dropped it, and it went down the drain."

"Don't cry, honey.  We'll see if Daddy can get it," I said.

"Yeah," Logan comforted.  "And if he can't we can just write a note."

We're good at notes around here.

Mr. Wicke did find it, but if somehow Griffin loses it between the bathroom and his bed, we've got it covered.  Take that, Tooth Fairy!