Zoey walks out the back door onto the deck, and her eyes immediately fall to the paper towel on the ground before her. All of our eyes dart to the table to see if this is the paper towel that, just seconds before she walked back outside after rinsing her mouth out, held the freshly pulled tooth from her mouth. Brent and I are on our feet, ready to search. Tears have already begun to sting Zoey’s eyes as we collectively realize the tooth could be missing.
Zoey sobs while Easton and Brent search the ground, trying to reassure her that even if we don't find the tooth, the tooth fairy will still come. She cries, “Toooooothhhh, I miss you! We’ll find you!” If you know my daughter, you know that saying goodbye to things is not easy for her.
It hits me. This isn’t her first lost tooth. I quietly make my exit back into the house without a word of explanation to anyone. In my bedroom, I rummage through a drawer to find a small yellow toothbox with the tooth still inside. It pays to shove stuff into drawers at 4 a.m. after the “tooth fairy” replaces that yellow box with a dollar. I push the holder back into the drawer, tuck the tooth into my hand, and head back outside.
Brent is off the deck now, on his hands and knees, searching for The Lost Toothy™ while softly attempting to reassure Zoey as her sobs get louder. He is a good man and a good daddy. Without a word exchanged, I bend down next to him, sneak the tooth into his hand, take a step back, and pretend to look myself.
“Oooh, I think I found it Zoey!” my husband exclaims as he pulls the tooth from the dirt. Her tears almost instantly dry as a smile takes over her face. “Toooottthhyyy! We found you!” she says sniffly, throwing her arms around her daddy. Her hero.
Brent and I laugh about the actual tooth she lost, which is probably under our deck somewhere or inside a chipmunk's belly, later that evening before he hands me a dollar to exchange for the old tooth. He wonders about the odds I would have an old baby tooth lying around and that I would remember it.
The Lost Toothy™ interaction on our back deck took approximately five minutes in total. By the following morning, when Zoey sleepily carried her one dollar bill down the stairs to show me the tooth fairy came, it mattered little that the tooth was almost lost forever to her.
But it was lost, and my husband and I solved the problem in under five minutes without exchanging a word. We didn’t have to explain the plan to each other or check who was taking care of what part; we just knew.
Later this year, when the first child makes their way to my side of the bed in the middle of the night to inform me they puked all over their bed and themselves, all I will have to do is shake him and say, “She puked.” We will both drag tired limbs out of bed and take care of “our parts” with barely a word spoken. When I walk into the living room tonight after reading the devotional and tucking the kids in, he will have my bowl of popcorn waiting for me. When it’s time for our next yearly physicals, I will call and make the appointments and tell him when his is. When my oil change light comes on, he will contact the dealership and make me a morning appointment for after I drop the kids at school without me having to ask.
We don’t just work together; we work great together.
He has been the best teammate ever for the last ten years. Sometimes, those other players we raise make the game quite crazy, but I’m so thankful to have him to pass the ball to. I know he’s in position waiting without me ever having to check.
Happy anniversary, Handsome. I can’t wait to sit next to you at the football fields today.
Normally football/sports team analogies go over my head but oh my gosh, this was speaking my language. Beautiful. Happy Anniversary 💗
I love this! Happy Anniversary! 💛