For weeks Rob has been resisting pulling his second front tooth. It was getting more and more loose. He told me he wanted to let the gym teacher pull it because then he would get "a bag of candy and a stretchy toy." I asked him how he knew this and he replied that last year he saw a girl in the hall carrying her tooth in a bag and she had candy and a toy. Knowing Rob, I assume he stopped this child and said, "Hey! Where did you get that stuff?"
Last night he didn't want to go to bed. First he slithered downstairs and crept into the big, comfy chair. I sent him back to bed. Then he came down saying his tooth was really loose. I sent him back. Then he came down and said his tooth was bleeding. I told him to swish and sent him back. Next time he came down, he looked like this. He had twisted his tooth until it was totally sideways. After much laughing and picture-taking, the tooth finally was plucked and put into a medicine bottle for the tooth fairy.
Now my poor boy looks like Mike Tyson after a particularly bad fight.