Someday, when you have kids of your own, I will tell you this story:
So, you lost your tooth. But you were sleeping out in the hallway, because you were mad at your brother. So, that’s where your blankets and sheets were all set up — like a little miniature campground.
So, how was I to know that the little clinking sound I heard, when I was running the vacuum over your campsite, was not a Lego, but actually was your tooth?
I didn’t realize this until hours later, when you said, “Mom, where do you put my tooth?! It was right here, under my pillow until you messed up my bed!”
Later that night, after you went to sleep, I opened the sweeper bag and went through it until I found your tooth.
I washed it off and presented it to you the next morning. And then, that day, you lost another tooth. So, you put it on the console in the kitchen — I didn’t know this at the time. You also put it with your homework pages, which I sorted through and put away.
Something might have fell on the floor… because later, you stood right in that same spot, and said, “Where are my two teeth?!”
I must have knocked them on the floor when I was cleaning up. And, of course, I vacuumed there too.
I will be going through the sweeper bag, again, soon, after you’re asleep.