Maggie lost her first tooth on Saturday morning...
Since she and The Boy were going to a special sleepover at DC Grandma's house, we packed it up in a little bag in preparation for a visit from the Tooth Fairy.
Maggie decided she wanted to keep the tooth -- at least for a little while -- and that someone should let the tooth fairy know so she didn't waste her time trying to get a tooth that would not be hers. That's fine, I thought. The tooth fairy knows where you live. It's better at home.
It's Monday now. She doesn't want to part with the tooth. It's still in the bag with a white ribbon tied at the top (for identification purposes.) Pretty soon, I'm going to tell her that the tooth fairy has a tight timeframe for such matters and can't keep rescheduling her visit.
Someone I am married to (aka SIAMT) cares a lot about his clothes. He has cultivated that effortlessly put together, "This old thing?" look, but he truly cares. Way more, it should be said, than I care about my clothes...I mean, have you seen me lately? There is balance in our marriage.
But this morning I got a look behind the great curtain. It was startling. And weird. You see, SIAMT was having a shoe crisis.
SIAMT: "These shoes drink Negroni and have an Italian girlfriend who doesn't talk and always looks angry. They eat good cheese."
"These shoes are married to a girl from the Midwest. She smiles a lot." Me: "But they're falling apart." SIAMT: "Oh, they'll stay together. We should get some Negroni."
I'm proud to say that he wore the Midwesterners.
EDIT: Charles points out that the Italian girlfriend has ringlets. And she does smile, but only under very specific circumstances, which I won't go into here.