Emerson is running out of teeth. Today he lost his sixth tooth, at age six and a half. With each tooth comes a longer note for the fairy. Partly, because he has (literally) lost two of them before he can get them under his pillow, and partly due to his analytical nature. This is the same child that asked me (at age three) who God's parents are. And while also age three, nonchalantly told us while visiting a cemetery, "you know this is going to be us one day."
Tonight's note reads as follows:
(Page 1)
Dear tooth farry
are your parents real and
can you
take a
picture of
your self please
(Page 2)
and can you
find my tooth
outside
on the
sidewalk
my passcode is
2583
What passcode you're wondering? The passcode to his iPod. So Ms. Fairy can take a selfie.
