Chris took Cat and Tate to their swim lessons tonight to give me a break after being home with the kids for nearly two solid weeks due to snow, illness, and more snow. I was enjoying the solitude and my burst of productivity when the kitchen door slammed open and Tate appeared wailing. LOUDLY.

“Sissy knocked out my TOOF. Sissy KNOCKED OUT MY TOOF AND I AM BLEEDING. MAKE IT STOP. MAKE IT STOP. MAKE IT STOP.”

Tate, who is normally pretty tough and tolerates bumps and bruises far more easily than her sister, loses her mind at the loss of teeth and ensuing bleeding. Unfortunately for us, she is on a tooth loss tear at the moment, and so we are on high alert at all times.

The current TOOF was been loose for a solid month and hanging on by a thread but she refused to let anyone near it. She was determined to keep it in as long as possible and had started chewing only on the side furthest from the tooth and taking 10 minutes to brush the TOOF with the gentlest of strokes. No teasing, cajoling or reason would convince her to grant access to her TOOF and the mere mention of pulling it caused hysterics. The Hope Diamond receives less care and protection than the TOOF of Tater.

Fast forward to tonight. On the way home from swim lessons, Cat was engaging in some kind of older sibling torture manuever involving flicking Tate on the nose. One flick went foul and, yes, you guessed it, KNOCKED OUT HER TOOF.

I took her upstairs to rinse but with each spit of blood-tinged water, Tate grew more hysterical. “MAKE IT STOP BLEEDING” she wailed.

“It will stop in a minute, honey” I said calmly, “Just keep rinsing.”

“I DON’T WANT TO WAIT A MINUTE. MAKE IT STOP NOW.”

After 10 solid minutes of this, my patience, not really ever in full supply, was officially depleted. I sent her to get a bottle of cold water whereupon she tearfully regaled her father of her tale of how I could not “MAKE IT STOP.”

“Tater,” he said. “This is a good thing. The tooth has been bothering you and now its out. And tonight the Tooth Fairy comes. You will get five whole dollars tonight. You should be happy.”

“I don’t want five dollars,” she sobbed into his shoulder.

“What do you want baby?” he asked his voice full of the fatherly care and concern one can muster after not being locked in the house for two weeks with children while also working full time.

For the first time since arriving home she stopped crying and looked him straight in the face, “I’m thinking two twenties should make it all better.”