Monday, February 20, 2017

My baby lost his very last baby tooth.

Stock image of the Tooth Fairy

The Tooth Fairy just visited for the very last time.

Upon losing his very last baby tooth, my baby declared his intention to stay up all night and wait for the Tooth Fairy so he could see what she looks like, and maybe take a picture of her.

I suggested that just in case he accidentally fell asleep before TF's arrival he might want to write her a note. He agreed, and painstakingly slowly wrote out a letter in his neatest handwriting. In this note, Ryan 1) thanked the Tooth Fairy for taking all his teeth; 2) asked what she does with all those teeth; and 3) asked what she looks like.

And the Tooth Fairy provided answers, in beautiful pink cursive. This surprised me, but it seems she uses the teeth to make the fairy dust which gives fairies the power to fly. We also learned that she is made of pure magic, so to our human eyes she probably looks like a white ball of light. Also, she said she's rather large for a fairy, and that it would take two hands to hold on to her. She took Ryan's tooth and left two coins - one for the tooth, and one for the letter.

It seems magical that at age 11 he still Believes with all his heart; I don't know if the average neurotypical child still Believes at this stage.

The Tooth Fairy seems to have tremendous confidence in Ryan. She wrote,
"Keep being a sweet, loving person. I have loved watching you grow up, and I know you will do amazing things as you get older. Remember to brush!"

Saturday, February 4, 2017

The gunman isn't hiding.

In my dream I was pitching an amazing membership scheme* to my gym. I was talking with a lot of interested, enthusiastic gym employees about this in their office, when suddenly we saw, through the floor-to-ceiling glass walls, a commotion on the gym floor. A man was pointing a gun at a crowd, waving it wildly while walking toward them. The crowd was backing away from the gunman. Several gym-goers were packed into the corner just outside the office. Most of the people in the office with me hid, or maybe disappeared - I was only aware at that point of one man behind a desk. I hit the floor in front of the desk and threw a blanket over myself, because that's obviously the safest place to be when all that separates you from a gunman is a glass wall with a glass door.

The gunman started firing.

People screamed. Some people ducked, others just stood there in shock, but I don't think anyone was actually hit.

Then the gunman turned toward the office. I didn't move.

The gunman opened the glass door. I half-tried to scoot under the desk, but I was tangled up in the blanket. I wondered why it hadn't occurred to me to hide under the desk earlier.

Then I woke up kicking my husband.

The gunman isn't hiding. He's right there, bringing fear to a place I love.

When a man shows you his gun in Act 1, be prepared for him to fire it in Act 2.

Glass walls will not protect you.

Chatting with people who agree that your idea is awesome won't protect you.

Curling up in your blanket will not protect you.

The only weapon at your disposal is the phone on the desk.

Call for help.

Get under the desk.

And pray that help arrives in time.

*Free idea, because I'm not going to pursue this: Get 12 gyms to offer a collective membership, which lets you go to Gym A the first month, Gym B the second month, etc. When the gunman appeared I was arguing in favor of averaging the membership prices so a customer wouldn't end up paying $10 for their month at Crunch and $150 for their month at Edge, and the manager was bemoaning the accounting headache that would cause.