A few weeks before we left for Europe, Marlowe lost her first tooth. Soon after, she showed us that the one immediately next to the new little tooth vacancy was also loose. We wiggled it and jiggled it and tried to make it come out before we left, but to no avail.
On the drive to LAX, Raf tried to grab it and make it come out, but it held steadfast to its moorings.
"Marlowe, where will we be when your tooth comes out?" I asked her and she shrugged, smiling.
Each time we arrived in a new city, our whole family took turns feeling the looseness of that tiny tooth. "Come on, Mar! Barcelona!" we said as we rode the aerial cable car high above the city. In a few days, we said, "South of France!"" Finally, in the Toulouse Airport, en route to Paris, we all sort of came to the conclusion that the little tooth was to come out in our new house, like the other one.
Oh, but Paris has a magical hold on all of us and that tooth decided to pop out and see the city by night with the Tooth Fairy. On the very first night, no less. That oh-so-cosmpolitan Tooth Fairy left three American dollars and 2 Euros. How she found us, we'll never know.
Au revoir, petit dent!