Annie pulled her tooth out tonight just before bed. Jason goaded her into it - he was tired of watching her play with the poor thing, hanging by a few sad fibers - and she yanked it out calmly and spit the blood into the sink. Even after Jason jammed some wadded-up tissue in the socket, she kept trying to talk to us. Just now, she's upstairs, finally asleep. She came downstairs once after being tucked in, afraid that something was under her bed and going to get her ankles if she got out.
"Like what?" I asked, half-smiling.
"Like, a monster," she said, also half-smiling, because we both knew she wasn't really afraid.
"I only ever let in that very little purple monster," I told her. She rolled her eyes (a daily occurrence). She kissed me on the lips (the yips, as Jemma would say) and stoically marched back up the stairs to bed. She stopped halfway.
"Go to sleep!" I said. "If you don't go to sleep, the Tooth Fairy can't come."
"Why not?"
"Because she doesn't want people to see her."
She positioned her thumb and forefinger an inch apart. "Is the Tooth Fairy this big?"
"I don't know. I've never seen her. Now go to sleep."
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