“What should I do with my tooth?” the Girl asked. She’s had to have three baby teeth pulled because they just weren’t coming out correctly. This last one was the final to come out before she gets her braces on, something she’s not really looking forward to.

“Why not put it under your pillow for the Tooth Fairy,” I suggested.

She looked at me, furrowed her brow, screwed up her lips, marched over and said, “Right.”

“Well, why not? Get a little money. She gets another tooth. It’s win-win.”

Again, “Right.”

“What do you mean, ‘Right’?” I tried to keep from smiling, but I could feel the edges of my lips creeping upward.

“I know it was you guys,” she proclaimed.

“Oh, really?”

I’ve been waiting for this conversation for years now, wondering when she would admit that she knew K and I were the Tooth Fairy and Santa.

“Yes, I saw you!”

“And how do you know it wasn’t the Tooth Fairy. She could be a shapeshifter.” I was wondering if she would come back with, “Those don’t exist, either!” but instead, she just insisted again that she’d seen me.

Then the bombshell: “E doesn’t even believe in Santa!”