"OK, come here and let me check. Yes, I think it's ready to come out. Go choose your thread."
It's a right of passage here. When you must have a tooth pulled, you get to pick your poison. Kate chose a pale pink with which to lasso her jiggly tooth.
Another loose tooth tradition round these parts is that Daddy MUST be out of the house for the event. Daddy. does. not. do. teeth. Daddy had a meeting, so it was all systems go.
Meg prepped the warm salt water for the swishing after the fact, and Cole stood by for support, hoping the tooth would fly far and fast and he could catch it before it landed.
Molly, curious, remained a few steps removed from the nervous twittering of her older sis.
Twittering calmed, we got down to business and finished our task.
Then there was a little crying, and a lot of swishing, and then...well, the rest is not important except the part where the newly released baby tooth was tucked into its special pillow and bid farewell.
At the end of the matter, the Tooth Fairy in charge of the Special Division of Front Teeth was summoned.
For the first time in many teeth-losings, the Tooth Fairy showed up the very next morning ( and did not have to be reminded daily for the next week as is the norm here lately) and paid handsomely for the tooth.
The next morning, the tooth's former owner was...thooooo thurprithed!
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