I took Little Z to the dentist yesterday. She's lost one tooth, our friend the dental hygienist gave her a little lecture about which teeth to expect to fall out next. She said Little Z had nineteen teeth.
On the way home, Little Z asked me,
"How does the Tooth Fairy know when you lose a tooth? Does a bell go off at the Tooth Fairy's house?"
"I really don't know," I said.
Once we got home, Little Z wanted to go outside, "but you can't look at me and see what I'm doing!" she said.
"Sure," I said.
She came back in a little while later with... something. I didn't look. Then she wanted soap. She set about in the bathroom, washing something. Then,
"Do you have any paper towels?"
I shut my eyes and handed her some paper towels.
"I need you to move this, but you can't look!" she said.
I moved a paper towel full of small white pebbles from one table to another.
"I have a way I think to make a lot of money," she said.
Then, she was writing something.
"How do you spell, 'really'?"
"How do you spell, 'all'?"
"How do you spell, 'teeth'?"
"Don't read this note!"
Then she disappeared upstairs for a while.
"Don't look under my pillow!"
Then her dad came home,
"Don't ever even look under my pillow at all!" she said. "I have a way I think to make lots of money."
We slept. Zzzzzzzzzzz...
Then, this morning,
"My experience didn't work."
She went off to school.
I took the liberty of looking under her pillow a few minutes ago.
I couldn't get it folded back up correctly again. She's going to know I looked under her pillow!
What happened to the note, I wonder? Maybe she realized it was suspicious to write a note that said, "These really are all my teeth!"
Notice how many. Nineteen.
Crime doesn't pay, kid. There's no fooling the Tooth Fairy.