Saturday, February 23, 2008
Apologies and Teeth
Hey! I fell asleep, fully clothed on the couch, only to wake up to the melodious sound of my teenage jewelry box. No, wait...Love Story was on TV. It was close to the end...Dang, O'Dell! Those were two fabulous looking people. As we all know, though, love doesn't mean never having to say you're sorry. Oh well, they looked radiant anyway.
My younger one lost a tooth tonight, leaving him no top front teeth. He was ridiculously pleased with his appearance, and kept looking in the mirror. Yikes! That reminds me...the tooth fairy better come soon, before she forgets, falls back asleep and there's a lot of backpedaling in the morning. Not that that's ever happened here before...no, no. And yes, that means that I am the tooth fairy. You had to learn it sometime. No, I'm not the tooth fairy for everyone, just my own kids. That reminds me of a TRUE STORY:
When I was little, visiting my grandparents in Park Ridge, NJ, I loved to play in my grandmother's top dresser drawer. It was where she kept all these fancy little boxes from jewelry stores...you know, little velvet or leather covered treasures to be revealed before snapping closed on my fingers. There was one box in there she told me not to touch. "It's an old box, very fragile," she said. I dutifully obeyed, but I was curious. Years later, when my grandmother died, my grandfather asked if there was anything special we wanted from the house. I asked if I could look in that box. He had no idea what I was talking about and said, "Sure, go get it." I went upstairs and the little square black leather box was right where it had always been. I was determined to be outrageously careful with this precious thing. I would've worn conservation gloves if I'd had them. I brought it close to my face and slowly opened the lid. Arrrgh! Teeth came flying out! It was a box full of my dad's baby teeth.
Even after she was gone, Grandma was protecting me from the reality that parents leave rewards under heavy warm pillows and murmuring sleepy heads. She wanted me to believe as long as possible. There was no greater treasure in that drawer.