The Tooth Fairy is Going Broke

The Dictator has lost 6 teeth since October. If her two front teeth had taken just a wee bit longer to grow in, she would officially look like a jack-o-lantern. As it is, she's still working on how to take bites of food with so many missing teeth. We're getting good at slathering her gums with orajel and yanking out the loose teeth.

On the plus side, she's getting quite used to the transactions with the Tooth Fairy. So comfortable, in fact, that she's getting rather smart-alecky.




Note that the passing of the tooth to the Fairy and the money to the child takes place in the kitchen. Very few teeth have been placed under pillows in the Alligator household. The Princess was terrified of the Tooth Fairy, and we've learned it's much easier for her to arrive when it's convenient for her if the tooth is not under the pillow of a light sleeper.

The Tooth Fairy not only recycles teeth, but notes as well.

Little Miss Chatterbox

The Princess has always been what I refused to call "SHY" and more what I termed "inwardly counseled" and "reticent" and "reserved". She's not shy if you know her and will carry on quite the conversation. Carry it on and on and on.

But usually, in groups of people beyond our little family unit, she appears shy. She sits and listens (and eavesdrops) and then talks nineteen to the dozen on the way home about it.

But she's growing and changing. And becoming this so entirely captivating young lady. Case in point:

Husband's aunt and uncle from Phoenix were in town for a funeral. We stopped over at my in-laws' house to visit with the aunt and uncle, as well as another aunt who lives about 25 minutes away.

We were all sitting in the living room, chatting. And on several occasions, I looked at Husband with surprise as The Princess volunteered and shared an anecdote or story. And she ran with it! The Dictator, too, had no qualms about piping up -- but she's always been more extroverted.

The Princess -- coming out of her shell. Who knew?

We might be in trouble!

Mad Scientist

I was washing The Princess' hair in the kitchen sink yesterday -- a prelude to her getting about 5 inches of her (thick and tangly) hair cut off and some long, choppy layers put in. (It looks amazing!)

As I told The Princess to look up at the ceiling while I rinsed her hair, The Dictator said "but don't look up too high that you can't swallow."

I asked her what that was about.

She replied , "When you look way up at the ceiling, you can't swallow. I tried it."

FA: "What made you try that?"

D: "I'm a scientist. I like science."


Oh. Okay.

Queen of the Court

For three years, The Dictator has been the little sister who goes to volleyball practice and shags balls, practices bumping, and begs for the chance to "just once" go out on the court to play. And usually, at the end of practice, once or twice she'll get to go out and practice serving the ball over the net while the girls stretch out or run a lap. For three seasons (4th, 5th, and 6th grade fall seasons for The Princess), this has been the routine.

Not last night.

The Princess is playing winter volleyball -- a league at the local recreation center. And their coach is the woman who was Husband's assistant coach when he coached the 5th grade team.

Last night, the coach told The Dictator that she could play with the girls -- Queen of the Court. It's a fast-paced, game-like drill where the teams play 3 on 3 and whoever makes the point stays on the court and the other team steps aside for another 3 to have a try. And The Dictator held her own -- her bumping is pretty good. Her instinct was to move toward the ball and try to hit it, rather than to duck. And she actually had a few good hits/bumps! Enough, in fact, that the coach let her practice the entire time with the team -- this precious, precocious little 1st grader got to run with the big dogs -- 6th graders!

When it was her time to serve, they let her serve from about mid-court, and dang it if she didn't make it over the net most times!

The look of pure joy on her face as she stood in ready position with the team -- man, I wish I'd had my camera.

But the best was after she ran a lap or two at the end of practice with the girls.

She walked off the court and said to me, "FINALLY! I get to be ON the team!" It was priceless.

Later, we had to have the "back to reality" check of making sure that she realizes that she's not actually going to play in the games with them. She knew.

She said, "I bet I looked like a 4th grader out there. Maybe 5th, since I'm so good."

Next we'll have the "humility chat" -- but for now, let her revel!

Australian Elf Department

Deconstructing Christmas the other night at dinner, The Dictator and The Princess were listening with rapt attention as I described the tradition in Australia of having a Santa sack -- a bag that all toys from Santa go in, unwrapped. From what I understand, the children put out their Santa sack in the evening and then wake to find it filled with the toys from Santa.

I thought to myself -- what an environmentally-friendly practice. And what a time saver!

I explained to The Dictator that Santa must have negotiated that practice with Australians.

She decided that life must be good for Australian elves -- they don't have to wrap the presents.

"They just get to shove them in the sack and, like, go tanning or something" she said.

Husband and I decided that elves must work a long time to get promoted to the Australian elf department.

Man, they have the life!

Epiphany

"A moment of epiphany is a sudden revelation or a flash of recognition when the essence or full meaning of a time, event, memory, or person is apprehended."
The Discovery of Poetry , Frances Mayes

Today is the feast of Epiphany and it is also the 15th anniversary of the day I met my Husband. And while the Catholic Church doesn't necessarily mean the literary term "epiphany" when it celebrates the feast of Epiphany, as an English major, I have always liked the irony of this.

When I met Husband, I was teaching his junior-level technical writing class in college. I did not notice him at all -- not in any special way. He was just another student, in a class full of juniors, all about a year or two younger than myself. I was dating someone else at the time, even. Long story, there. I think he's a priest in New Jersey now. Probably -- knowing my track record.

Anyway.

Nearly 10 weeks later, something magical happened. Something that made me apprehend his person -- and I had an epiphany.

If life were a Disney movie, this would be the point where birds fluttered about my head; my eyes fell out of my face with springs attached; and my heart thumped and went off like an alarm clock.

If life were a sitcom, this is the point where I would have said something clever and droll; and he would have bantered back a line that triggered the laugh track.

If life were a novel, it would have taken 3 pages of prose to describe just how he walked across the room, how the light hit his face in some new and revealing way, how my thoughts were jumbled and I realized, for the first time, who he was or who he could be.

If life were anything other than life, I would have said something WAY more memorable and literary than "You're tall . . ." and "You got a hair cut."

(Life sometimes resembling a sitcom, this is the point where I will make note of the fact that the haircut had a LOT to do with me noticing him. It's amazing what the lack of a mullet does for a man.)

But life is life -- and so he got up from his desk to get a drink of water and I noticed him. My epiphany (weeks after the Epiphany) -- and it all clicked into place.

I do know this: He got a hair cut on a whim. He got a drink -- leaving his desk before class, something he hadn't done before. I was standing in the doorway and when I looked up a him, I saw him. I mean, really saw him. And I rubbed his freshly-shorn neck and got butterflies.

The rest, as they say, is history. Our history. The one we're making together.

With a haircut and a stupid comment and two little girls and 13+ years of marriage and a guy and a girl.

Epiphany.