The Tooth Fairy's new address.

I'm fairly certain most of you have been sitting on the edge of your seats the past couple of weeks, waiting to find out what has happened with Sam's wiggley teeth.  Wait no more, my friends!  The news you've all been waiting for...

A couple of weeks ago Sam decided it was time for his tooth to come out.  It was barely hanging on and actually came out pretty easily.  This was Sam’s first tooth to come out where he really cared about what happened with it, so he was pretty pumped to have something to leave for the Tooth Fairy and Kenny and I made a big deal about it, giving him high fives and talking up the ‘ol “fairy”.

Well, apparently Charlie was feeling a little left out, although he had already lost 8 teeth up to this point.  Not to be outdone, within about 10 minutes Charlie had ripped out one of his teeth.  I say ripped because he showed me the loose tooth the day before.  And it was no where near ready to be pulled less than 24 hours later.  I have no idea how he managed to get it out, but he did.  He just couldn’t let Sam have his moment of glory…

Until I made mentioned of Sam’s neighboring tooth that was also fairly loose.  And when it was ready to come out a mere week later, I knew Charlie would literally have to bust his face on something really hard to get a tooth out now.  Sorry, dude.  This time it’s all Sam’s turn.  (I am so mean.)

The tooth fairy did visit, much to their delight, even though she had to split up the bounty since she couldn’t seem to scrape up enough quarters to pay for two teeth.  And then a third.  I’m gonna have to talk to the Tooth Fairies lending agent.  Maybe see if I can take out a second mortgage or something…

And for some reason, Sam has it in his head that loosing teeth is somehow connected to how old he is…

“Mommy, am I five now?”
“No, buddy.  Your birthday isn’t until March.”
“But mommy, I’ve lost five teeth.  I’m five.”

“No.  You are still four.”
“I’m five.  Like Jimmy.”
“Jimmy just turned five.  But he hasn’t lost any teeth.”

 Long pause as his theory of teeth lost equals years alive slowly begins to fall apart…

 “I want to be five.  I’m bigger.  Am I in kindergarten next week?”

"Nope, not until next year.  And you are still four.”

Big sigh.  “But I still lost five teeth…”
“Yes, you did.  But you are only four years old.  And still in preschool.”
“I just need to be bigger.”
“I know you do.  But I can’t allow any more getting bigger.  Not this year.”

Another big sigh.  “I lost five teeth.”

And the same conversation was duplicated tonight as I talked him out of deciding he was now six.