Could it be the troof?!?
I hope the Tooth Fairy doesn't disappoint. She has never been to our house, and I don't know how to send her directions. But I am more upset about my Peanut growing up. Officially. This is one of those mommy milestones that make us sentimental types weepy. I checked his baby book, and this was actually the third tooth he got at nine months. Don't you dare ask me to find that information out when it is Pumpkin's turn. In fact, please don't even mention to him that I ever had the slightest idea about his big brother's teething details. That page just might be blank in Pumpkin's baby book. Anyway, Peanut was visibly disturbed that the tooth fairy would consider taking his prized tooth away. So I told him we could write her a note and ask her to please leave the tooth under his pillow. I vaguely remember writing a note like that to the Tooth Fairy at his age, too. Looking back, my parents were geniuses! Now Eric and I don't have to silently fish under a sleeping boy's pillow ever-so-delicately for a teensy weensy baby tooth in the middle of the night. Score!
But score, shmore. The fact is, I can't stop my first baby from getting older. No matter how I try.
Just please tell me I have a long time before an armpit hair makes an appearance.