Delusions of the Desperate Kind

Conversation between myself and a much older man in Wal-Mart today:

Man: "Hello."

Me: being the polite individual I am I reply, "Hi, how are you?"

Man: "I'm doing well, thank you. Good-Lookin'!"

At this point, shock has completely taken over my motor skills and has sharply turned my head to look at the man who looks to be in his late 40s. I catch him looking me up and down. Now, a nervous yet unamused laugh escapes me and I turn my face away. Again, my motor skills have still got me in manual override mode and I grab 2 rolls of toilet paper, which I didn't need, to make myself look busy.

As I begin making my escape down the aisle the man calls after me, "I'm single, by the way."

Me: instinctively and without delay or any form of diplomacy, I reply, "Well, I'm not!" and I grab something else I don't need. (Don't ask me why THAT was my defense mechanism of choice.)

Man: "I kinda figured you weren't, as gorgeous as you are. Well, have a nice day!" he yells as I turn the corner of the aisle where I can breathe again.
I begin looking for a place to stash the items I involuntarily placed in my basket.

Seriously, did he just expect me to come running back down the aisle, fall at his feet and exclaim, "Take me, Big Daddy! I'm yours!" ??

Where's the cork that stops his brain matter from flooding the outer regions of Delusional Valley?

Can I have a rain check on that reality check?

Picture it, the Mason household, August 2, 2009:

All 4 Mason children and a Mason mother are dressed and ready for church. Breakfast has been devoured by those not fasting this particular Sunday (as evidenced by the explosion of cheerios and milk in the kitchen). Hair bows have been pinned and primped. Even dress shoes have been rediscovered on lands far, far away.

The morning has gone exceptionally well for the Mason household on this particular Sabbath. You see, not once did Mason mother have to yell or threaten anyone with their lives to make sure tardiness was avoided. Today the sun is shining a little brighter over Prestonwood Estates.

So, with scriptures in hand and a smile on her face, Mason mother escorts happy little Mason children outside to the perfect little Mason family car. Birds are singing, crickets are chirping, butterflies are abundant. (I would say deer are frolicking in the near distance, but that's pushing it).

When all at once, little Mason boy asks mother, "Mom, is today Fast Sunday?"
"It sure is!" says Mason mother.
Replies little Mason boy, "Well, it sure doesn't seem very fast."

*sigh*
Butterflies bolt, crickets crawl away and the birds have all but choked to death on their songs.
Is that a cloud I see forming overhead?
Well, in all reality, we were all thinking it anyway!

Problematic Prefixes and the Preliminary Test

I have decided to become an EMT.

That's right.

And before you ask - yes, I am in my right mind and no, I'm not on any mind-altering medications.

I say that not to be derogatory towards the EMS staff in any way, but in all reality those who know me know that statement is coming from a woman who can't stand even the simple thought of throw up within 100 yards of my general vicinity. I gag when my children gag. While they're standing there looking helplessly into their mother's eyes begging for some kind of empathy and relief, I'm giving the same look right back.

But I've been riding out with EMS because I'm writing an article on them (and the Police Department, the Highway Patrol and the Fire and Rescue Team) educating the citizens of Durant on just how much these people in these particular professional fields sacrifice on a daily basis to keep us safe while we're tucked in our beds at night. (*whew* Talk about a run-on sentence).

After a rather intriguing call to help save a man who was having a heart attack on the side of the road 2 weeks ago, I have become quite addicted to what EMTs do and therefore enrolled myself in the course 2 days ago.

HOWEVER, there is a little preliminary test I have to take before class starts to see at what level I should be placed for the course.

Tests unnerve me. Especially tests that I am not prepared for. Teachers used to say "Pop Quiz" in high school and I'd break out into a cold sweat and would pray for some natural disaster to occur or for the sudden onset of uncontrollable diarrhea, for the teacher or myself, I didn't care.

Hindsight is always 20/20 and although no bowel movements of the squirty kind ever interrupted a dreaded last minute torture drill, I've come to realize that because of those pop quizzes, I've become really good at functioning above average under pressure.

I just like to be prepared. I'm not comfortable when I'm not prepared or at least somewhat thought out beforehand.

So, I think. How could I prepare myself for a test I know absolutely nothing about?

*Lightbulb*

I remember my friend Gary Akin has just completed his EMT course and is now working on the paramedic course! Gary probably knows what's on that stinkin' exam!

So, last night at around 8:00 pm I text Gary:

"Hey, this is Carissa. Do you remember what's on the preliminary test for the EMT class?"

He did not immediately respond. No biggie.

At 9:17 pm however, I receive a reply:

"I don't know you and I don't know that."

I laugh. Gary is such a dork!

And then...I see the number I've texted. Instead of a 916 prefix, I've texted to a 380 prefix. Frantically, I reply: "OMG! I am sooooo sorry!"

About 2 hours later at 11:37 pm I receive another text from Mystery Texter. "Who are you trying to send that to?"

I'm thinking 'Well, that's really none of your business, now is it?' But instead I politely reply, "916 not 380. My bad!"

At approximately 12:25 this morning, THIS is the text I receive:

"Ya, your bad and I'm only 11, so ya."

Did you just mouth off to me you little twirp?! You better hope I don't ever find out who you are or where you live because if I ever have to come save your life you little pint-sized ego trip on a tricycle, you're getting a catheter whether you need it or not! And just what in the crap are you doing out of your crib at that hour anyway?

Houdini Hopes...

My son has recently been exploring the world of card magic.
"Pick a card, mom, any card!" he'll say with a sparse worn out deck of mixed blue and red bicycle cards in his hand and a suave stage smile. I grab the one that's sticking out the furthest and relief comes over his face and his smile widens.
"Now look at it and put it back on top."
I look. It's the 3 of clubs. I put it back as instructed.
He attempts a false shuffle which, if done correctly, would land my card back on top. Instead, he jumbles them up into one big some-cards-are-face-up mess. He grimaces slightly and glances at me.
I am staring at him in amazed wonderment. He smiles again and slaps the deck twice, closes his eyes and flips the top card over.
"Is this your card?" He's holding his breath.
"Oh. My. Gosh. HOW did you do that?" His eyes widen at his own amazingness and he himself has to look at the card.
"I can't tell you," he says matter-of-factly, "it's magic."
It was the 5 of diamonds.

The last few attempts at things mystical has been his experiments with hypnosis and mind-control, Julia being his main subject of experiment.
While doing their chores the other day, which consisted of hanging their clean clothes up that were on my bedroom floor, I overhear Garrett gently saying to Julia, "Empty your mind. Empty your mind."
Julia, not as amused with his attempts to wipe her mind clean again says, "It's already empty, Garrett."
Garrett sighs heavily. "Juuliaaa...", he whines.
"Oh , alright." she says and she lays down on the floor and begins to chant while passing her hands slowly across her forehead.
"Empty my mind. Empty my mind. Empty my..."
"Hey, Julia!" Garrett interrupts her.
She sits up.
Garrett leans in and whispers, "Why don't we try to get mom to empty her mind so she'll let us watch TV all day!"
Enter mom, stage left, to break up the fiendish plan and let her little Houdini children know that moms have all power over mind-control and that attempts to hypnotize a female parental figure are indefinitely futile.
However, the male parental figure is completely intolerant when it comes to mind-control. Their bodies are especially influenced by it during the later evening hours.
Just ask them anything as long as they have a certain hand held controller and are staring blank-faced at a TV screen. They'll give you anything you want.

The Rescue Mission

There's nothing like witnessing the genuine care and compassion from one of God's living creatures to another.

My children never cease to amaze me or make me more proud than my smile alone can show.
Ok, so this may seem trivial to some, but to me it's a crowning moment in the history of my journey through motherhood thus far.

After we arrive home from a little post T-ball game snack at Braum's and are heading inside, my kids get distracted (as usual) and wander off to the left of the house. It's nearly dark outside and time for their bath and bedtime. After a few minutes pass, I contemplate calling for them to come inside when they all simultaneously collide into and eventually through the front door. Abby is a nose ahead of Daphne with Garrett and Julia bringing up the rear.

Abby has her hand closed as she approaches me and instinctively I draw back. She is not afraid of anything and has often come to me with creepy crawlies that she has given pet names and begs to keep.

"What?" I ask cautiously.
"It's a lightning bug, Mom. It was stuck in a spider's web."

She opens her hand. The little fella is still wrapped up in the vicious web sack and is blinking a frantic SOS.
All the kids have drawn faces and sappy eyes as they stare at the little bug with such unprecedented pity.

"Can we try to pull the sack off, Mom?" Abby asks as she stares at him, (probably already thinking of a name to give him), and raises a finger to begin the rescue process.

"You can sure try, baby." Although, I was doubtful he'd survive even that.

With all the gentleness a new mother gives to her first newborn, Abby and the others gently scraped their tiny fingernails over the sticky death sack until it disintegrated and freed the bug.
He was wobbly at first and stretched his wings for a while, but soon regained some energy and began making random flight attempts. We took him outside and he took to the night air as we all watched and smiled.

I don't know, but the fact that they saw this tiny helpless creation and decided it needed a second chance and were willing to come to its aid instead of walking away without a second thought, only helps me continue to realize what awesome children I have.

An Enlightening Moment

My youngest daughter Julia saw a spider on the wall today.

 

"Mommy, how do spiders climb walls?" she asked. 

"They have sticky legs", came my ingenious reply.

I could almost hear the question mark in her head get deleted and replaced with a bold exclamation point as she profoundly stated, "Ooohh, so that's why our hands are always so sticky!"

Let the Summer Games begin!

Garrett is in T-ball this summer. This is our first encounter with little league sports and all I have to say is....
Why didn't we do this sooner!?
What fun we had!!
Take a look at all the excitement:

A little pep talk and they're off! GO DODGERS!

GO #3!!

Batter up!
The swing...

...the connection. Houston, we have liftoff!

Safe at first.

Just making sure home plate is secured, Coach!

Don't you know you have to wear your hat backwards when you play center field?

Good game!
Best buds, Eli and Garrett after a tough first game! (Is daddy flexing in the back?)
And a chest bump to celebrate right!
Little man's #1 Fan!

Nothing like a fist bump from dad to end the game right.

An Aesop Lesson Remembered

"The Hawk and The Pigeons"

Some pigeons had long lived in fear of a hawk, but since they had always kept on the alert and stayed near their dovecote, they had consistently managed to escape their enemies attacks. Finding his sallies unsuccessful, the hawk now sought to use cunning to trick the pigeons. 

"Why," he once asked, "do you prefer this life of constant anxiety when I could keep you safe from any conceivable attack by the kites and falcons? All you have to do is to make me your king and I won't bother you anymore."

Trusting his claims, the pigeons elected him to their throne, but no sooner was he installed than he began exercising his royal prerogative by devouring a pigeon a day.

"It serves us right," said one poor pigeon whose turn was yet to come. 

Moral of the story: Some remedies are worse than the disease itself.

Found this little fable ironically fitting for our current times.

Doomed...

I was doomed to gray early.
Both my sisters and my father grayed early and I have obviously been no exception.
My hair started turning shades of silver in my early 20s.
I tried to embrace it at first but then, got sucked into the whole dye thing and now I don't want to quit.
For instance, it's been almost 3 months since I last refreshed my natural color.
I now have so many gray hairs on the top of my head that sometimes even the dog doesn't recognize me.
People ask to see my ID and have to look twice.
My kids have called me 'Nana' by mistake.
Enough is enough.
So, yesterday I sat indian-style on the counter in front of our bathroom mirror plucking out gray hairs with a pair of tweezers...all while whispering through clinched teeth a very avid "Die!" to each individual hair. (I was trying to warn all the others to pay attention by making an example out of the naughty follicles. If they don't get with the program I might just go crazy enough to pull a Britney stunt).
I did this for about 30 minutes. That is, until Mr. Simpleton came in, quizzically pondering the situation then, bravely asked "What are you doing?"
"Oh nothing..." I said. "...just die-ing my hair."

Nephew-Schmephew!

Ok, so I'm only posting these sickly adorable pictures because...
well, because...
!because this is the most adorable little nephew on the face of the planet, gosh darn it!
*tied with Brendan and Liam, of course. ;)*

Eat your heart out!




He's so scrumptious, I could eat him for breakfast!

Partly Lazy, Mostly Brilliant.

Our daughter Abby just recently turned 9...well, about 3 weeks ago she did. Recent enough, eh?
Thing have been pretty crazy at our house since January and trying to find time to plan a birthday party for a bunch of crazy hyper little girls was requiring much more momentum than muscle and therefore, invitations weren't even made. I ALWAYS make the invitations.
And the thank you cards.
And the favors.
Anyhow, with little time and even less energy to spare in planning this shindig I came up with the most brilliant idea ever known to the world of mothers...
A Do-It-Yourself Party!
It's beyond brilliant! It's ingenious, (*ahem* if I do say so myself), and this is why:

YOU don't do any of the work. The kids do! I didn't even have to buy a cake! The only things I put myself in charge of were the presents and buying all the supplies. That. was. it! And at the end of the day I still had energy and sanity to spare.
Here's the rundown and budget summary. You're gonna love it!

11 a.m.: Kids arrive and make their own sandwiches with choices of breads, meats, peanut butter, jams, mayo, mustard, lettuce, tomatoes, chips, kool-aids, juices, etc., all of which I had in stock. (Thank goodness for a large family with diverse tastes in the culinary world of sandwiches and potato chips).
Out-of-pocket expense: $0

11:30 a.m.: Girls begin making their own hair accessories and necklaces and most adorable hand puppets, courtesy of Martha Stewart crafts.
Out-of-pocket expense - $15
*note: this could be done with little to no out-of-pocket expense by Google-ing 'easy crafts for kids' and using your own leftover craft supplies that are just taking up space in your house.

12 p.m.: I gave each girl 2 cupcakes and lined the dining room table with individual icing packets and sprinkles and sugared glitters. They made individualized cupcakes, then we put them on a silver platter in the shape of a nine and had Abby blow out the candles.


Out-of-pocket expense: $10 for the icing and cake mix. You could make your own icings and cupcakes from scratch and save even more!

12:30 p.m.: Opening gifts.
12:45 p.m.: Make your own trail mix! I had some things in the pantry that needed to be used (simply because if they hadn't been used soon I would've devoured them all!). I laid out small bowls and filled them with things like raisins, mini chocolate chips, white chocolate chips, peanut butter chocolate chips, dried fruit, sesame crackers, and sunflower seeds. Each girl got a clear cellophane bag and a twist tie and was allowed to make her own individual trail mix to go!
Out-of-pocket expense: $3 (for the cellophane bags).

1 p.m.: End of party and clean-up! I have never had less to do and clean up after a party because I was able to clean as the party progressed while the girls were busy with the activities.
So....whadaya think??

"Respired"

As you may recall during one of my first posts I commented on how cool I thought Webkinz were.
My opinion has changed.

Picture it: I'm sitting in my studio upstairs, and from upstairs you can hear anything and everything that's going on downstairs. I hear Mr. Simpleton say, "What's wrong, Garrett?". Then, I hear the unmistakable sound of sniffling (and I get that knot in my stomach because, as a mother, you know he just wiped his nose on his sleeve). My daughter, Abby, chimes in and explains that Garrett's froggie expired on Webkinz World. Daddy tries to console Garrett and eventually I hear Garrett ask him, "Dad, will you take me to mom?"

So, up the stairs they come. Garrett is sniffling loudly, obviously trying to dry it up before he gets to me. I pretend I haven't heard anything from downstairs and as he comes in I can tell he's fighting back fierce gigantic tears and trying to keep his throat from closing completely because of the knot in it. His face is tear streaked and his eyelashes are all clumped together.
"What's the matter, boy?" I ask.
He takes a deep breath and tries to talk but here comes that knot in his throat again. He swallows and opens his mouth to speak again when the corners of his mouth start to droop, his eyebrows narrow and crinkles begin to form on his frowning little chin. He puts his thumb and forefinger on his eyelids and pushes hard trying to prevent the tears from escaping and says to me in a tight shrill voice, "My Hip Hop respired!"
"It what?" I asked, unsure of exactly what he said.
"It respired!" he repeated.
lol.
I hugged my broken-hearted little man and explained that his froggie didn't expire or die but his website is just no longer running.
"But his eyeballs are scratched", he recanted at me through hiccupped breaths. (I'm assuming he was making the association that because of Hip Hop's scratched eyeballs, the Corporate Headquarters/Webkinz Wizard must have decided to "respire" him).
I totally flashed back to the Velveteen rabbit that I watched as a kid.
"That's what your stuffed animals like, buddy. That's how they know someone has loved them."
He nodded and a slight glint of happiness came back into his salt watery eyes.

So, I just want to know if the people at Webkinz World ever thought that it might be a cruel joke to give kids stuffed toys with websites that unknowingly expire in about a year? I wonder if they know how many broken-hearted little boys and girls there are out in the world because they woke up one morning and BAM! their best friend no longer has a personality on the web? I had no idea that's what happened and had I known I probably would have thought twice before buying the dumb thing. I don't know about you, but I was quite attached to my stuffed dolls as a little girl. Garrett's over it now but, man! Talk about the drama at our house for 2 days. Everywhere we went Garrett had to tell people about how his Webkinz "respired".
It's funny now, though.


Hip Hop Mason:
Adopted: March 10th, 2008
Respired: March 10th, 2009

Egg-cellent!

Ok, so it's almost spring, which means it's almost Easter, which means it's time for me to change my year-round Holiday Tree! What do you think? There's little easter stuffed pink and green bunnies, and big floral easter eggs with long pretty tassels, and pink glass ornaments, and pink, purple, blue and yellow feather clips and then I used pink and green curly gift bows for good measure. Here's how it turned out:




I Love Easter!

Lessons in Elementary Traffic School

Ok. I just have to know if my readers, wherever you may be located, have the same problem with after-school traffic that I do here in my hometown. Not just after-school traffic, but even the 7:30-8:00 a.m. traffic as well. 

I wonder...

 

Do you have the rude guy in a much too small but very pricey vehicle who cuts you off in the middle of the road nearly causing an accident just to wave his finger at you because you did something you didn't know you weren't supposed to do?

Do you have the business man who has to drive passed the school in the morning to get to work and, I guess since he didn't leave 5 minutes earlier, he's now late and probably talking to his boss on his cellphone asking him to move the meeting to 8:30 instead? When, lo and behold, it looks like he's going to let you in line! You jump at the chance to cut line from someone so generous. You even wave. 

But what's this? 

He's moving closer to your bumper at an alarmingly rapid rate. 

He stops just inches from your rear end and...is he...? 

Did he just...? He did! He just flipped you and your children off (not the kind of wave you were expecting in reciprocation). 

And from the color of his face he's on blood pressure meds, too. 

Or at least, he will be by this afternoon. 

Do you have the woman in the big truck who inevitably parks where she's not supposed to thus blocking anyone from going anywhere until she returns to her car, which is usually several minutes later?

Do you have the soccer dad in his '92 Buick who refuses to leave any less than 3 cars lengths between him and the car in front of him? You could turn into the parking lot if he'd move up just 5 feet. 3 feet, even! But nooooo. You have to wait for Super Slow Sally to get her kid in the car at the front of the line before he'll even think of moving up. 

Do you have the crazy just-got-off-duty police officer dad who parks next to you and when your children are safely secured in the car and you're trying to safely merge out into traffic he peels out recklessly in front of you speeding away as children blow the dust from their faces and dodge tiny pebbles being slung at them?

Do you have the mom in the minivan who will every day and without a doubt pretend to not see the people who are trying to back out of the parking lot, merge into traffic, or change lanes and by thus ignoring causes after-school traffic pandemonium?

Do you have Crazy Sweaty Lunatic Guy in the beat up old hunk of metal who obviously needs some kind of road rage rehabilitation program? He's the one who sits behind you in the line of parking lot traffic that's going no where (see reference to lady in minivan mentioned just prior) but thinks by inching closer to your back bumper and then coming to a jerking halt over and over and over again all while screaming out his window, "Geez!" and "Oh, come on!" and "I got places to be!" will somehow manage to inspire someone in line to let the freak out into traffic with the rest of us.

Do you have the grandma that apparently has a neck problem because she can't look anywhere but straight when she's driving and you pray you don't get behind her in line only because you don't want to see her get pummeled by oncoming traffic?

Do you have the lady that you let out of the parking lot nearly everyday and never once waves or smiles any form of gratitude in your general direction?   

Do you have the impatient mom with 4 kids who has been sitting in a line that has gone no where for 15 minutes so she decides to jump the curb to get to a parking spot and get her children who are, by the way, the last ones to be picked up in their class because traffic was stalled for so long?

Oh, wait. 

That's ME! 

Besides the last one, if you guys don't have any one of these people in your area, you can have ours!

G-L-A-M-O-R-O-U-S

Julia turned 7 today and yesterday I threw her a Glamor Girl Party. When the glamor girls arrived they changed into their glamorous dresses, had their hair, nails, and make-up professionally done by Daphne and Abigail at The Mane Salon (our kitchen). Then we ate lunch which consisted of finger sandwiches and fresh fruit.


Then, it was time for the fashion show, complete with paparazzi. The girls modeled their styles to the radio version (AKA Clean version) of Fergie's "GLAMOROUS".
And here's our star of the event, Miss Julia Mason.

Here are the rest of the models (after some clothing changes). I think Daphne and Abigail from the Mane Salon got one too many whiffs of the hairspray.

What glamor girl is complete without her own tiny Westie or Scottie puppy on little red leashes to tote around?

My daughter wants you to know that in 10 years...

...she'll be available!

Right now, she thinks this is funny and begged me to take a picture of her for my blog. But in 10 years, she's gonna hate the fact that I ever listened to her!

Valentine's Day Tricks and Treats

Ok, so I know there are some people out there who don't celebrate Valentine's Day because they feel like their significant other should love them more than just on one designated day of the year. I look at it like this: since Mr. Simpleton does love me unconditionally and shows it more than just one day a year, I'm pretty blessed...
but he better lay it on extra thick on this particular day of the year!

But I like to include the kiddos on Valentine's day, too and try to come up with different ways of surprising them and showing my children how much I love them.

In case you haven't figured this out about me yet, I'm a pretty serious individual compared to Mr. Simpleton. He'll get down and play with the kids and wrestle. But, I'm only good for that sort of thing so long before chores start calling my name or the phone starts ringing or I get jabbed in eye with sharp 5 year old elbows. Personally, I'd rather take them to see a movie or go get ice cream or do crafts together or read them a book or do things like plan the 12 Days Of Christmas and special Valentine's Day Breakfasts like this that they find equally as enjoyable. Stumbling sleepily down the stairs Saturday morning and after rubbing dreamy fog from their eyes this is what my kids found waiting for them:

(Spoken with a somewhat French accent) Here we have Strawberry Stuffed French Toast with a delicate strawberry cream sauce and a generous dollop of whipped cream, 2 fresh strips of country bacon and an organic banana all served with pink Sweet Milk.
For Valentine's Day Evening we went out with some close friends of ours, Collin and Monett, to the Smucker's Stars On Ice event at the Dallas American Airlines Center. Sasha Cohen was beautiful as always. Not to mention, Todd Eldridge and Michael Weiss were just as amusing as always to watch.

Meet our friends Collin and Monett:
Notice Monett's beautiful genuine smile.
Notice Collin's, uh, yeah.

And here we have Mr. Simpleton and myself.
Notice my genuine happy-to-be-here-celebrating-Valentine's-Day-with-my-husband smile
Notice Jonathan's...oh. You've noticed.
Hmmm....I have to wonder, did these 2 grown-up, adult, 30 some-odd year old men plan this while giggling in the boys' bathroom or is this just a classic case of I-can't-help-that-all-my-male-testosterone-is-seeping-out-through-my-face syndrome?

But this year I must give Mr. Simpleton the award for Best Gift Ever Given Thus Far.
I received no Valentine's Day cards from him addressed to "My Husband" (please see my Blog Archive for Feb. '08);
No 1/2 off flowers from Wal-Mart ("Fireproof", baby.);
No, he scored big points with this diamond ring flaunting our symbol of eternity!
I am so flippin' spoiled.

Thank you, Mr. Simpleton. I love you!

Tardy Tooth Fairy

I don't know what it is, but every time one of our children loses a tooth, the Tooth Fairy seems to be so bogged down with molars and incisors that she has to stop at our house last.

My youngest daughter, Julia, has been desperately trying to pull her other front tooth out. It's been loose for about 2 weeks and she was determined it was coming out. Well, as luck would have it it did come out at school on Thursday. She was so excited! She came home, found the little jar we use for the tooth/money exchange process and put it by her bed.

No one thought of it again.

When morning arrives, little Julia comes to me and says, "The Tooth Fairy must have been very busy last night because she hasn't come and got my tooth yet."
I cringe and pat her head and assure her that she'll probably come while she's at school. She nods and smiles gapingly and skips off to go brush the few teeth she has left. She seems fine over the whole ordeal. I mean, this is what normally happens with the Tooth Fairy at our house. She is obviously a very busy person. In fact, maybe she needs a personal assistant? Say, a tall lanky red-haired man in a pink tu-tu? Oh! Or there's this guy who I think may very well have been auditioning for the part of Tooth Fairy PA:
(And Matt Baker in Utah, if you would like for me to delete this photo of you in your natural state, I will understand. However, I could so see you in a glittery pair of wings. Those other contestants ain't got nothin' on you!)

Anyhow, that's beside the point. Much to little miss Julia's delight the Tooth Fairy did come while she was at school! She left her some quarters and this little note:

It says in swirly Fairy letters, "Sorry this is late".
And she was. Terribly sorry. But I'm sure she's relieved to have rid herself of the burden of carrying those heavy quarters around!
All I have to say is it's a good thing Santa is a punctual individual.