At the ripe old age of six and a half, Jack lost his first tooth this week. Following tradition, we promptly lost the tooth! Thinking I was being smart, I had him put it in an envelope and address it to the Tooth Fairy. He didn't lick and seal it, which I really didn't think I needed to tell him, since he seals empty, very usable envelopes all the time. Well, it fell out of that envelope and onto the floor of his room. Which is carpeted. With Berber. With white flecks. Ack! While searching for that tooth, which we did find (praise God!), we also found Therese's missing juice cup. Just how long had it been MIA, you ask? Let's just say that the phrase of the day around here is: 'Chuck the cup'. If we have survived this long without the cup, I have no desire to investigate the contents remaining in it.
Once there was a store in Georgia. It is no more, but how I wish it was. I likened going in there to treasure hunting. One never knew what was going to be in there, and you had to dig through and wade through all the "other people's treasures" to find your own. I once found a set of blue and white teacups and saucers from England. I found lace handkerchiefs, a rocking chair, and an end table. But by far the best find was my kitchen table. I had stopped by one day while the kids were taking horseback lessons and the then little ones were asleep. The store was not open, but I went up to the window to see if anything new was there. And it was there. The table. And six chairs too! We were in need of a bigger table with Jack on the way. My mom had offered to give us her old one, which I was going to accept if I didn't find something I liked better. I didn't want anyone else to even see the table because I knew it was supposed to be ours, but one can never tell abo...
These are the stories they'll beg to hear over and over again as they grow up!
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