NOT an Authorized ARC Post

Ahoy, Maties! Pirate blogger here. It is 2 am and I am counting the ways we miss Keith (alias Daddy).One of the many things that that seafaring man of the house does when he is here on land is play Tooth Fairy. This is something which cannot be postponed. I had the duty when it was easy, when little Rosie-Posie would sweetly announce that she was putting a tooth out for the fairy. It would be next to her pillow in a nice little box labeled "Tooth Fairy" with a picture of a tooth in case there was any doubt. The exchange was easy then and did not even have to be done in the middle of the night. I could go in around 10 or 11 make the exchange and go to bed. The last few teeth replaced by some exotic sort of coin took the fairy an eternity. I usually thought, "What on earth is that man doing? What is taking him so long? There is no baseball this time of year!"

First, let me say, I am not "stealth-mommy". I made noise rummaging around in the garage, looking in an old cabinet where I remembered putting some two dollar bills, the closest thing I had to exotic money. Next, the stairs creaked. I tiptoed into Ro's room only to trip on something strategically placed in the way. I thought it was some sort of booby trap, but it turned out to be the vacuum we did not put away after cleaning up a recent hampster cage disaster. She had mentioned wanting a net to try and catch the fairy. That would take a big net, dear. Anyway, I approached the bed and she started talking! EEE-GADS! It turns out she is just a sleep talker like her Dad. Whew! Then Cleo growled. She does not sleep talk. I could hear the strangle hold tighten around her neck. She silenced. I slowly reached under the pillow.....and touched a hand. OH NO!!! But that sweet child did not awaken. At this point, Cleo started barking in earnest and I chickened out and sort of aborted the mission. I tucked the money under the edge of the pillow. I did not retrieve the tiny sample bottle of Scope, empty except for one small baby tooth,
one of the last. Just one more sign that our little one is growing up entirely too fast. Boy will I be glad when that man comes home (where he belongs.) Did I say that? Ellen, still not the boat scribe, just holding down the fort.