Oh, the DRAMA

Zoe was ripping into a Happy Meal toy on the way to my dad's house tonight when she started screaming hysterically. I glanced in the rearview mirror to find her mouth was covered in blood.

I pulled over and hopped out... her tooth was gone. My first clue that this was the problem was Zoe screaming, "My toooooth is gooooone!"

While I searched frantically for this first concrete sign that she really -- REALLY -- wasn't a toddler anymore, as if her reading skills and ability to recognize swear words wasn't enough, she was more concerned about the indications that she must have suffered a major injury.

And so it went. For hours. Hysterical, inconsolable. My dad came rushing when we showed up, probably thinking these wails meant her arm had come off or something. The tooth fairy (a.k.a. Jen's mom) called, and Zoe seemed to settle down enough after that, but it didn't take long before her focus changed from her massive blood loss to the loss of a beloved body part.

"I want my toooooooooooooth back in my mooooooooooouth!"

So, we agreed that we wouldn't cash in with the tooth fairy just yet. If she wanted to keep the tooth for a while, make peace with it, the tooth fairy would understand, I told her.

In fact, the tooth fairy doesn't know what the going rate is for teeth these days, so it will give me a little time to research.