Literally

Lastborn lost a tooth last night. The biggest fear among all children of tooth-loosing age is that the tooth will get lost and the tooth fairy will not be able to swap for the desired money. He constantly worries when a tooth gets to a certain level of wobbliness that he will swallow it or drop it down the sink.

Well of course, while Dad was brushing his teeth last night, the latter happened. Like a scene in slow motion, the tooth tinkled around and around in a circle around the sink drain and then, without warning, changed direction and disappeared down the drain, never to be seen again.

Thinking quickly, Daddy informed Lastborn that he could just write a note for the tooth fairy and she would still deliver the loot. So, with great industry and the kind of focus that is never shown to schoolwork, Lastborn sat down and penned the following:

Dear Tooth Fairy,

I lost my tooth, literally.

Love, Eddie

ap-cray

That's pig Latin for crap. That was my day yesterday.

It started with a Team Manager for DI calling to quit. And I couldn't even get angry at her because she's really sick. She's doing the right thing, but for a while, I thought I would need to be the team manager for her group.

Then, in checking on what I had ordered for Christmas for my sister, I discovered that all of my Amazon orders had been sent to Tewksbury. Oh Man!!!

I, of course, discover this 3 minutes before I had to be outside to meet the kids bus. So I couldn't begin the phone tag required to re-route the packages somewhere more useful.

So out I headed to the bus at 2:35 only to step into a giant pile of doggy doo as I was crossing my yard. And I mean giant! I've never seen such a giant pile of ap-cray! Right in the middle of my yard. I'm sorry dog owner, but there is no way you could have missed your dog producing such a giant pile. Could you not have just picked it up? Please, let me know where you live and I will send my children over to your yard to squat down and dump a load.

So, I survived. I was able to call the Tewksbury postmaster who calmed and soothed me, and told me that she would contact the route driver and see if they could find the packages. I was able to get most of the poo off my shoe in time to attend a wonderful little neighborhood party around the corner, where we exchanged ornaments and cookies and had wonderful conversation, and fortuitously, the regional director of DI was there and told me she had a couple who still wanted to be team managers. The glass of Sirah at the party was helpful as well.

Today will be a better day.

What's that I smell?

Oh yes. It must be the testosterone.

Living in a household full of menfolk certainly does bring it's share of manliness. This usually comes in the form of constant obsession with weapons and weaponry.

You've heard that team "A man's home is his castle?" Well we take that too far here. Instead of a nice umbrella stand in our front entry, we have a nice weapon stand.

Where there aren't weapons, there are tiny green and tan commandos hiding in my plants and Christmas tree. Just the other day, I saw the Bionicles leading an attack in the family room with a division of characters from Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer in formation backing them up. Who knew that Rudolph and his gang were such warriors.

And one of these days, I have to snap a picture of Firstborn heading out to protect his woods. With his wooden hand and a half sword down the back of his shirt, his bow strung across one shoulder and quiver across the other, and a plastic dagger down his pants. Oh - and a 5 foot long stick.

We feel safe.