Christmas Eve mystery? I should think not

Precisely three minutes and 12 seconds after finally tucking the over-tired boys into bed, Philo got up and innocently announced from the top of the stairs, “Mommy, my loose tooth fell out!” And yet this, I suspect, was his diabolical plan all along: to wait until Christmas Eve, and there in the stillness of the top bunk, to endure the pain of ripping the incisor out prematurely only to nestle it (root and all) beneath his pillow, thereby effectively double working both Lady Tooth Fairy and St. Nicholas. I assure you this child is clever – clever, I say – but make no mistake about this: I. know. his. game.


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