and by the way, we do in fact, on occasion brush the child's hair!

The Princess pulled another tooth last night. This is her third lost tooth, and she pulled each and every one all by herself.

She lost her first tooth on her 6th birthday. She was at my bff, Pajama Mama's house. Pajama Mama had graciously offered to let my girls play at her house while I went to get my hair "did". For those who don't know, Pajama Mama and I have been best friends, for most of the last 29 years. There were a few unfortunate years when we weren't super close, but thank God and instant messaging, we are closer than ever now. She lives in our home town. Three hours away from me; however, we are in constant contact and I try to get to her house whenever I'm in town visiting my family. Anyway, on this particular day, I was getting my hair "did" (because it's about half the price there, and I get all the good gossip.....picture Truvy's in Steel Magnolias), and my girls were at her house. Half way through my dye job, Pajama Mama called the hairdresser and asked to talk to me. She was apologizing profusely because the Princess had lost her tooth.

At her house.

On her birthday.

And I missed it.

Pajama Mama, of course, made a big deal about it, celebrated the loss of the tooth, and took pictures. Personally, I love the fact that the Princess lost her tooth there. Most of my memories from 5th grade 'til now include Pajama Mama in some way. We went through puberty, first dates, big hair, 80's fashion, high school graduation, and freshman year at college together. We celebrated each other's weddings and the birth of all six of our children. We've supported each other through squabbles with husbands, irrational, hard headed children and miscarriages. It's only fitting that my children have memories that include her too.

The second lost tooth came a few months later when she came to me in her best princess attire. Bloody fingers. Bloody mouth. Tooth in hand.

I really didn't even know this last one was all that loose, but last night, she decided it needed to come out. First she came to me and said, "Look at my hands." They were covered with blood. When I asked her what happened, she told me she was trying to pull her tooth. She then proceeded to sit beside me and yank and pull and wiggle. By the way, the very thought of pulling a tooth gives me the willies. I told her she was giving me the heebie jeebies and was going to make me cry because once that top tooth came out, she would look so grown up. After about half an hour, I thought she had given up. Then she said, "I'm so happy." I looked over, and there she sat holding her tooth in her hand, mouth full of blood, grinning a sweet little snaggle toothed grin at me and saying, "You can go ahead and cry now."

And I did.