Monday, November 1, 2010

Rory, Age 7

"Here, Mom," Rory said, handing me a piece of red yarn. "I snuck this out of music class last year. I thought it would come in handy."
"What's it for?"
"So you can remember me when I'm grown up."

And here is the memory that will be forever contained in this piece of red string:

Me: Don't forget to put your tooth under your pillow.
Rory: I'm pretty sure there are three possibilities for the tooth fairy.
Me: [crap, crap, crap, childhood ending in 3-2-1.]
Me: Really?
Rory: Yes. One - she's real. Two - someone is sneaking into the house in the middle of the night and taking my tooth and leaving money.
Me: But not the tooth fairy?
Rory: [duh]
Me: What's the third option?
Rory: Three - magic.
Me: Isn't the tooth fairy magic?
Rory: [duh] She HAS magic, Mom.
Me: [whew]

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