Hillbilly Light Job

I'm the one who does all the decorating for the holidays - inside and out. 

Today my husband saw me up on the ladder stringing up lights on our house.  "Woman, what are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

"A hillybilly light job."  He pointed to the yarn I used to secure the spiraling lights around the porch columns.  Then he pointed to the blue painter's tape that secured the lights around the door.  "What's all this string and tape here?  Don't you know you can go to Lowes and pick up some hooks?"

"Do you really want me putting hooks in all the pillars?"

"I don't care."

Yeah, right.

Then he looked at the string of lights that I had used as garland across the top of our porch.  "Aren't those supposed to be icicles?"

"Yeah.  But I'm thinking outside of the box.  It's going to be pretty blue garland."

He shook his head.  "Hillybilly woman."

Fast forward to this evening.  Every student who walked into my house commented on how pretty the lights looked.  I even noticed extra cars driving down the street to our cul-de-sac just to see them. 

So there.  I don't care what anybody says.  This hillybilly does a gosh darn good job of stringin' lights!   

Counting Snowflakes

We had our first snowfall of the year this evening.  It was rather pretty.  Of course, my son was very excited about it.  Because... well, I guess because snow is just exciting to a kid.

"Mama!  Come count snowflakes with me!"

"Okay," I said.

We parked ourselves on the floor of his bedroom and looked out the window. 

"Mama, turn off the light so we can see them better."

I obliged.  The sky was dark.  The spotlights on the back of our house were on.  They made the snow look like tiny crystals shining against the night sky.

We sat in silence for a while, admiring their beauty. 

"Mama, I think there's a billion of them."

"You may be right.  And no two are the same."

"But what if they melted, and evaporated, and came back down again?  Would they be the same as the first ones that came down?"

"No.  They'd be different."

"Wow!"

Aren't the simplest things in life the most amazing?
 

Rolling in the Mud

It's been raining in Cincinnati quite a bit these last few days.  As a result, the ground has become rather muddy.  This is not good, especially when one has a dog who likes to romp around outside.

This evening I was trying to teach violin lessons.  The dog decided to start barking.  And he wouldn't shut up.  This was unacceptable, so I sent him outside.  Well, that was a mistake, because then he decided to roll in the mud.  I kid you not.  The hundred pound German Shepherd found the muddiest patch of dirt and rolled in it.

Needless to say, we were not pleased.

"Schultz!" my husband yelled at the dirty varmint.  "Crate!"

The dog complied, but as soon as he got in his crate, he gave himself a good shake.  Mud went flying everywhere.  So picture our kitchen walls splattered with mud.  Picture our floor covered in muddy paw prints.

"That dog needs a bath,"  my husband announced.

"Could you wait for him to dry off a bit?"

"No."

My husband opened the latch.  "Bathtub!"

Schultz knew just what that meant.  He galloped up the stairs leaving a trail of muddy paw prints on the carpet and splashes of mud all over the walls.

"Woman.  You get to clean that up."

Grrrr.

Now here's the kicker.  After that disgusting creature got bathed (the water, by the way, was completely black and dirty dog hair was plastered to the bathroom walls), he had the nerve to pee on the dining room floor.  Can you believe it? That dog for sure is getting a stocking full of coal.  Bad dog!

Thirsty Dog

My German Shepherd is a barbarian.

Today, I heard a strange sound coming from the bathroom.  Puzzled, I went over to investigate.  What do you think I saw?  A hairy creature with a big bushy tail .  I didn't see his head, because his head was in the toilet. The strange sound was the sound of water being slurped. 

"Schultz!  Get your head out of the toilet right now!" I bellowed.

He turned around.  Toilet water was dripping from his jowels.

"You disgusting varmint!  You should be ashamed of yourself!"

He licked his chops and looked at me.  He wasn't ashamed of himself at all. He just trotted off to find more trouble. 

What am I ever going to do with him? 

Eating the Christmas Tree

The Christmas tree has been up less than 24 hours, and already the dog is trying to eat it.

We usually don't let our big old German Shepherd (who's only 14 months old) run around the house.  He's either in his crate or tied up to the back door.  My husband thought it would be a good idea to start letting him have a little freedom.  I have to tell you, I'm really questioning the timing on this one.  All of the Christmas stuff is up.  You know, as well as I, that for a dog, it's all just too much of a temptation.

Anyway, I just happened to glance in the family room, and there he was, mouthing an ornament.

"Schultz!"

He looked at me with his big brown eyes.

"Don't even think about it."

He looked back at the tree.  He looked at me.  Then he grabbed an ornament and ran.

"Schultz!"

Bad dog!  I guarantee Santa will be giving that varmint a big lump of coal!

Silly Students

I usually don't write about the antics of my students, but today, I just felt I had too. 

I was teaching piano lessons, and the sisters I was teaching must've drank some silly juice. They couldn't stop laughing.  One was sitting on the sofa giggling while the other attempted to play.

"Hey, what is up with you today?" I asked the sister on the sofa.

"I don't know," she said.

"Well, try to settle down.  You're distracting your sister."

No sooner had I finished saying that, then the other sister who was at the piano started cracking her knuckles during the rests in her music - right on the beat.

"What's going on, here?" I asked.

Both girls started laughing out of control.  I think they must've eaten too much turkey yesterday, or something.  What a couple of nuts!

Smokin' Turkey

What's a holiday without a little excitement?  Pretty boring, I'd say.  Thanksgiving at my house this year was definitely exciting.  We smoked everybody out.  Yep.  We were roasting the big bird in the oven at about 500 degrees.  There must've been some grime in the oven, because suddenly, there was an awful lot of smoke pouring out of that thing.

All of the fire alarms in the house went off.  It was mass pandemonium. The house filled with smoke. The dog was freaking out.  Everyone was covering their ears.  I was trying to open the windows and stop the alarms.  Do you know what it's like trying to disconnect smoke alarms when they're shrieking in that high-pitched beep?  Oy!

My ears are still ringing from that. (I let the dog out, but I think his ears are ringing, too.)

The good news is that the house didn't burn down, and the turkey tasted pretty good.

Bacon and Pickles

I took my kids to Subway for lunch today.  I like that place because we can usually create something healthy.  Usually.  Today was the exception.

"Mama, I want to tell them what I want," my seven-year-old son said.

"Okay."  I didn't think he'd come up with anything too outrageous.

"I'll take a six-inch Italian with bacon and American cheese, toasted," my big guy said to the worker behind the counter.

I made a face.  "Bacon and American cheese?"

"Yeah.  It'll be good!"

"What would you like on that?" the worker asked.

"Cucumbers, lettuce, and pickles."

"Pickles?"  I asked.  "Are you sure?  That doesn't sound very appetizing."

"Pickles."

I sighed. 

The lady sitting at the table next to us laughed.  "Yeah, my son ordered a ketchup, mustard, and salami sandwich.  He thought it was great!"

I shook my head as I watched my son gobble his concoction.  And the funny thing is, if I would have made that at home, he would have spit it out and thrown it in the garbage.  Maybe.

 

Snow White and the Wicked Witch

"Mama, come help us make a movie," my ten-year-old daughter said.

"Huh?" I said.  "What are you talking about?"

"Come on, and we'll show you."

I went downstairs into the kitchen and saw my son with some kind of white scarf tied around his head.  I also saw a bike helmet loaded with fruit, topped by an apple that had a bite taken out of it.

"We're filming Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.  Only we don't have seven dwarfs so we're just doing the part where Snow White eats the poison apple."

I looked at my son.

I looked at my daughter.

"Okay.  Which one of you is Snow White?"

"I am," said my daughter.  "Can't you tell?"

So they attempted to enact the play, but inevitably my son would bust out laughing.

"Mama, you be the witch," my daughter said exasperated.

Just then my husband walked in the room.  He overheard the conversation.  "Yeah," he said.  "Mama would be a good witch, and she wouldn't even have to act!"

So I played the part of the witch, and I did it perfectly.  He's right - I am a good witch! 

Comfy Sneakers

"Bubba, you really need to toss those sneakers and wear your new ones," I said to my seven-year-old son.  His old tennis shoes were a mess.  There were holes in the bottom, the material on the top had peeled off, and the rubber tip was hanging by a thread.

"No!  I love these shoes!" 

"Dude, what are you going to do when you have to walk through puddles and snow?"

"Get wet."

"Yeah," I said.  "That wouldn't be much fun."

"I don't care.  These are the best shoes I have."

"Bubba, you have a brand-spankin' new pair of shoes right here.  Why don't you wear them?"

"Because I like these."

Ugh!  I'll never win.

Bookworm

I have tried to instill a love of reading with both of my children.  Since they were teeny-tiny babies, I've been reading to them. 

I wasn't exactly aware of how much my daughter likes reading until just today.  I took her to Barnes and Noble because there was a book she said she wanted to read.  And I can never say no to books (unless there's inappropriate content in them).  When we got there, she showed me all of these books she's been reading.  I couldn't believe it.  She has literally read just about every book that was on the shelves for middle grade readers.  She was telling me all about them.

"You've read all of these?"

"Yeah.  I get them from the library at school."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Reading rocks!  And Rick Raordian is my favorite author.  Lightening Thief is the best!"

I was totally impressed.  I think that made my day!

Escape Artist

This morning I was walking our big German Shepherd.  At over 100 pounds, he's quite a beast.  (And he's only 14 months old!)

A construction worker saw us and said, "I hope that leash doesn't break!"  Apparently, he was concerned about having an extremely large German Shepherd jumping on him.

Fast forward to this afternoon.  The dog was staring at a reflection on the grass.  (Remember the psycho dog story?  Well, he's still doing it.)  I figured I didn't have to babysit him.  The gates were closed and he was busy.  Wrong.

A short while later the phone rang.

My husband answered the phone. "Hello?"

"Yeah.  Are you missing a big German Shepherd?"

Uh oh.  Yep.  He did it again.  That gosh darn dog figured out how to unlatch the gate.  He had escaped into another neighborhood.

Now here's the funny part of the story.  Remember the construction worker?  Well, guess what?  He was the guy who had our dog by the collar.  Can you believe it?  What are the chances of that?

So we dragged the beast home, and bannished him to his crate.

Bad dog!

Fashion Designer

"Mom," my ten-year-old daughter said.  "I'm going to be part of a fashion designing company with  my friend.  We're going to make dresses."

"That's nice," I said.  "Does one of you know how to sew?"

"Yeah, remember, you took me to that pillow case sewing class at JoAnn Fabric."

"That's a lot different than creating patterns and sewing."

"I have a sewing machine.  I'll figure it out.  Do you want to see my designs?"

I nodded.  She showed me her notebook.

"This is a cloud dress.  And this is a snake dress.  And this one here is a fish dress."

"Hmmm.  Interesting," I said.

"They're modeled after Lady Gaga."

That explained it. (Actually, they were pretty good.)

So I have a tween who wants to be a rock star and who likes Lady Gaga fashion.

I think I'm in trouble!

Typing Class

"Mom, I have to use the computer for homework," my ten-year-old daughter announced.

"Okay," I said.  "But make sure you're not fooling around doing other things on there."

I got her set up on the computer and went off to do whatever I do.  A few minutes later, I heard some funny noises coming from the office.  I went in to check it out.  On the computer screen were these cartoon characters.  It looked like she was playing a game.

"I thought you were doing homework," I said.

"I am.  It's typing homework.  See, the big fat hippo tells me when I type the sentence correctly."

"You've got to be kidding."

"No.  I'm learning how to use proper fingering for typing on the keyboard."

Now why couldn't I have had a big fat hippo helping me learn how to type?  Oh.  Because I learned to type on a typewriter, before computers were invented.  That just makes me feel ancient...prehistoric even. ( Maybe my kids are right when they say I was around during the time of the dinosaurs.)

Hungry Fish

First of all, I'd like to thank everyone who participated in the Indie Book Collective Blog Tour de Force.  It was a huge success!  My post alone generated over one hundred books for our troops.  Awesome job, everyone!

Today, I'm going to tell you about my fish.  You know all about my bad dog.  And you've read a thing or two about my bird and the cat.  But you don't know about my fish.

We have a tank full of them:  guppies, swordfish, angelfish, neons, etc.  It's a colorful menagerie.  The thing about the fish, is that they can be a little impatient when it comes to their meals.  This evening, I was sitting at the computer, plinking away on the keyboard, when I heard a lot of splashing behind me (the tank is in the office).

The angelfish were going nuts.  They saw me sitting in front of them, and it was way past their dinner time. They were attempting to jump out of the water.  I could just imagine the little thoughts going on inside their heads:

"Hey, lady, get over here.  What's the matter with you?  Can't you see we're hungry?"

The mollys and swordfish joined in the commotion.  It was a total feeding frenzy -without the food.

"Okay, boys and girls.  Here's some chow."  I dumped some food in, and watched them swarm.

What a bunch of characters!     

Blog Tour De Troops: Kid's View - What it Means to be a Soldier

Hi everybody!  Welcome to Blog Tour de Troops sponsored by Indie Book Collective.  You should have joined me from Rachelle Reese and  John E. Miller's blog.  Next stop will be Valerie Douglas' blog.  I hope you have been enjoying the tour!

Today's post is special.  Why?  Because anyone who comments on it will receive a free e-book of That Mama is a Grouch (it's a picture book - great for sharing with kids).  Mama Diaries is part of the Blog Tour De Force in which fifty authors are giving free ebooks to troops (and other assorted characters).  It's our way of saying, "Thank you for all you do."  If you're interested in receiving my ebook, be sure to include your email address with your comment.

One more thing - Indie Book Collective is giving away Kindles to some very lucky troops.  If you'd like to donate money toward those Kindles, simply use Paypal and ibcprograms@gmail.com as the address to send money to.  Please note in your payment that it's a troops donation.

                                                             
Now, without further ado, let's talk about soldiers.

"What are soldiers?" I asked my seven-year-old son.  I wanted to get his take on the subject.

"They're big brave guys who fight bad guys."

"That's right," I said.  "Do you think only men are soldiers?"

"Yeah."

"Nope.  Women are soldiers, too."

He looked at me kind of funny.  "You mean women dress up in camo clothes and put war paint on their faces?"

I nodded.  "Some do."

He couldn't believe it.  "But don't they have kids?  What if they're mommies?"

"Some soldiers are mommies.  Some are daddies," I said.  "It's a big sacrifice to leave their families.  But to them, keeping us safe and protecting our freedom is worth the sacrifice." 

My son got all quiet thinking about that.

Then my ten-year-old daughter entered the room.  I thought I'd get her view on the matter.  "Tell me about soldiers," I said.  "What do they do that's so important?"

Without missing a beat she said, "They make sure we never lose our freedom."

Right on!

                                                                                    





So, to all the troops who are reading this, my family and I send our heartfelt thanks.  Each and every one of you has made sacrifices to protect us.  We recognize this and appreciate all you do.

If you'd like to share any experiences, or send a message to my kids, please feel free to do so in the comments. 

Also, if you'd like to continue following this blog, I'd invite you to join this site, follow me on Facebook, or follow me on Twitter.

Be sure to visit Valerie's Blog next.

Thanks for stopping by!

Growing Crystals

"Mom, can we grow those crystals from our kit?" my son asked. 

It had only been a year since we got the crystal-growing thing.  He's been wanting to do it for a very long time.  I've been putting it off because I had a funny feeling it was going to turn out to be a catastrophic mess.

I sighed.  "Okay," I said.  I guess I couldn't put it off anymore.

I reluctantly pulled out an old pot, and opened the box with all of the crystal growing powders.  I read the directions.  There were a lot of warnings about not getting anything on your skin.  The directions said that no kid under 12 should attempt to use the kit.  (Personally, I think nobody at all should attempt to use it.)

I mixed and weighed the powders (yes, I actually had to get out a kitchen scale).  I measured the water and boiled it.  I scrounged around the backyard and found a flat rock that met the specified proportions in the directions.  Then I went into the basement and set up the crystal growing lab. I was ready.

After I boiled the water and mixed the powder, I transported the concoction to the basement.  I poured the mixture into the crystal-growing molds.

Do you know what happened?

The darn mold leaked!  There was a crack, or something, in it. Shocking pink liquid started oozing all over the floor.  I had a plastic cover, in case of spillage, but even that couldn't contain it.  I frantically searched for paper towels to clean the mess.

So now, ladies and gentlemen, my basement floor has a lovely pink stain on it.  The good news, is that we were growing rubies.  Maybe we'll have a ruby-covered floor.  Oh, and did I mention I got some on my fingers?  Maybe I'll sprout some rubies, too.  

 

The Scientist and the Drama Queen

I took my kids to the Cincinnati Children's Museum today.  There's a really nice feature called, Water Works.  Kids get to splash around and operate wheels, and locks, and pulleys. 

My son loves all of the mechanical gizmos.  "Mama, check this out!" he said as he flooded a lock, and let the boats inside rise.  Then he opened the lock gates and let the boats woosh out.  "Cool!"  He continued around the exhibit doing all sorts of scientific things. 

Then there was my daughter.  The drama queen.  She was grabbing plastic homes from the exhibit's mountainside and throwing them into the water.

"What are you doing?' I asked, completely bewildered.

"There was an earthquake.  The houses toppled into the river."

Okay.

Then she took a cup and started splashing water onto the hill.

"Now what?' I asked.

"It's a tsunami."

Of course.

Then she toppled more houses into the water.  "Mud slide," she explained.

"Can't you give that little town a break?' I asked.

"No."  She operated the raincloud.  "Flash flood!"

 


     

Eating the Telephone Line

You wouldn't believe what that darn German Shepherd did today.  The phone man was here putting in a new phone line.  He had to bury the line outside. 

Well, the nice guy left the phone line on the ground just outside of the fence where our big old dog was prowling.  The big old dog saw it, and decided it would be a good snack.

He stuck his big black snoot under the fence and grabbed that thing. 

Sigh.

Needless to say, the phone man was not happy.

Neither was I.

Psycho Dog

I'm beginning to think our 14 month old German Shepherd has some mental problems.

He spent over an hour staring at a reflection on the grass caused by a plastic bird feeder.  And it wasn't like he was just lying on the ground looking at it.  He was in full pounce mode.  Whenever a breeze came, the reflection moved.  He was right on it.

"Dog, what are you doing?" I didn't expect and answer, but I thought I might break his hypnotic train of thought. 

He didn't even look at me.

My daughter tried.  "Schultzey Wultzey...Come to sissy!"

His eyeballs stayed glued to the reflection.

What a goofball!  Finally, after about an hour and twenty minutes, he let out a very long mournful howl. (I didn't know German Shepherds did that, either.)   The reflection was just too much for his little brain to handle.

(Anybody know a good dog shrink?  I may need to find him some professional help.)

Carpet Cursive

Today I found my seven-year-old son writing with his finger on our carpet.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Carpet cursive."

I looked down and tried to follow his scribble.

"See...M...O...M."  Then he wrote above it, "N...O."

"No, Mom?"  I asked.

"Yep.  No, Mom."

I shook my head and went about my business.  A little while later my husband found the carpet cursive.

"Why were you writing on the carpet?" he asked me.

"I didn't..."

"First you mess up the walls with that Halloween stuff you put on them.  Now you're messing up the carpet..."
"But...."

My son came out of his room with a big grin on his face.  "No, Mom!"

Ugh.

Magic Spell

I took my kids out for lunch today, since it was their day off.

My son seemed to have some trouble acting like a civilized human being.  First, he poured salt on his head.  Then he dabbed ketchup on his nose.  Then he got up and did a little dance.

"What are you doing?" I asked, completely shocked that he would behave in such a manner.

"Having fun," he said.

"That is just barbaric.  Sit down, wipe the ketchup off of your face, and behave like a gentleman."

"Okay, but first you have to say the magic spell."

"What magic spell?"

"The one that makes me sit down and behave."

"Okay.  Hokus Pokus Dominokus.  Please sit down.  Don't be a Blokus."

Apparently I got the right one.  He sat down and behaved for the rest of the meal. 

Belly Buttons

My son has always had a fascination with belly buttons.  I don't know why.  He just seems to think they're cute.

"Mommy, does the dog have a belly button?"

"Yes.  Somewhere under all that fur is a belly button."

"Can I look?"

"Have at it, kid.  But don't blame me if he nips your fingers."

He searched and searched, but could not find the belly button on our German Shepherd.  Maybe he's a mutant.  That would explain a lot of things.

"Mommy, what are belly buttons for?"

"What do you think they're for?"

He thought about that.  "Well, I know what mine is for."

"What?"

"It's for pressing.  And when I press it, I go 'beep.'"

Blog Tour De Troops

This Veteran's Day weekend, Indie Book Collective's Blog Tour de Troops is giving back to the men and women who safeguard our freedom.

50 Indie Authors will be giving away their book to every person who comments and a book to the soldier of their choice.  And...as many troops as possible will also be receiving free Kindles!

Remember to visit this blog on Monday, November 14th and leave a comment to receive a free ebook of That Mama is a Grouch for you and a soldier.

Osage Orange Ball

My son had a cub scout hike today at a local park.  When we arrived at the location, we found some mighty strange round things on the ground.

My son picked up one of the yellowish-greenish brain ball-looking things and asked what it was.

"An osage orange," said the troop leader. "They're from the thorny osage tree.  And did you know the Indians who used to live here, used the thorns as needles for sewing mocassins?"

Pretty cool info.

I'm not sure the cub scouts cared about what tree it came from, but they did think that it looked like a rather nice soccer ball, so they started kicking it around.  Unfortunately, the boys got a little rowdy, and ended up knocking over my son.

"Ow!" he said.  "I have a contusion.  Please get a gurney!"

Huh?  Where did my seven-year-old pick up language like that?

Anyway, I patched him up with my first aid kit and he was good to go for the hike.

Afterwards we had to bring home some of those osage orange things.  I hear they're good for keeping spiders out of the garage.

Teaching the Dog to Dance

My ten-year-old daughter likes to dance.  A lot. In fact she likes it so much, that she decided to teach our 100 pound German Shepherd some dance moves.

I found her in the kitchen with the hairy beast.  "Okay," she said. "Here's how you do a passe."  She demonstrated the move. 

The beast cocked his head.

"Your turn."

The beast drooled. He wanted a treat.  He moved his big paws. It didn't look like a passe to me, but apparently my daughter thought it was good enough.

"Good boy, Schultz!  Here's a treat!"

He gobbled it up.

Next move was a tandeux. Don't ask me to explain it.  The dog didn't get it either.

On to the last move which was a pirouette.    I don't know how she did it, but my daughter got our dog to stand on his hind legs and spin in a circle.  Sort of.  It was more like jumping in a circle.  Regardless, it was an impressive move.

I think I'll go buy the dog a tutu. He has a future as a ballerina. Or something.  

Rotten Tomatoes

First of all, I thought German Shepherds had good noses.  Second of all, I thought German Shepherds were supposed to be smart.

I don't know, but I think our German Shepherd is on the short end of the stick when it comes to those two things.

Today, I found him scrounging in my garden.  I hadn't cleaned up the old tomato plants yet, and there was a plethora of rotten tomatoes on the ground.  My dumb dog found a few and started chowing down.

"Beast!" I hollared.  "Get those out of your mouth.  Yuck!"

He didn't listen.  And I sure as heck wasn't going to stick my hand in his mouth to pull out a rotten tomato.

I few minutes later, I found him heaving in the corner of the yard.  He was puking up rotten tomatoes.

"See, you stupid dog.  You should've listened."

I guess I should go clean up the rotten apples.  Those will be next.

Bug Murderer

My kids have the terrible habit of leaving the door open when they are chatting with friends on the porch.  Bugs seem to take advantage of this.  They fly right in and make themselves at home.

One such bug made its way into my daughter's room.  She completely freaked.  I found her jumping on her bed, attempting to swat the thing with her Pixie magazine.

"Hey, chill," I said.  "It's just a bug."

"Can you kill it?"

"No.  It's up too high."

That didn't stop my daughter.  She hurled her magazine at the hapless creature, knocking it to the ground.  Then she jumped off her bed, picked up the magazine, and proceeded to beat the living daylights out of it.

"You're murdering it," I said.

She didn't care.  She beat it until it stopped moving.  Then she scraped it up with a crochet needle and magazine and deposited it in the garbage.

"There," she said, all pleased with herself.

"Let me see that magazine," I said.

I looked at the back cover.  Bug guts were smeared all over Justin Bieber's face.

I shrugged my shoulders.  Mission accomplished.

The Tooth Fairy is Fired

The tooth fairy has not exactly done a stellar job at our house.  She seems to be a little absent-minded.  I really don't know what her problem is.  But my kids are sick of her shoddy work habits.

Last night, my daughter was chomping on a piece of halloween candy.  Out popped a tooth.

"Oh look," she said.  "Another job for the tooth fairy!"

She put it in the special tooth fairy pouch and hung it on her door.  (She likes to make things easy for the tooth fairy.)  "Now remember, mom, the tooth fairy is supposed to come tonight."

"Yeah, okay," I said. 

Fast forward to today.

"Mom!" my daughter said.  "The tooth fairy didn't come!"

Oops.

"Well, maybe the tooth fairy got scared because of all the monsters and ghosts running around last night."

My daughter gave me a funny look.

"Or maybe she was just super busy because lots of kids lost teeth chewing on caramels," I reasoned.

"Mom," my daughter said.  "The tooth fairy is fired."

Uh, oh.