My two sons and I had the most lovely day bonding on Monday at the Museum of Science. In Boston, Monday was some holiday that I knew nothing about. The MoS was a place my older son and I have ejoyed on many occasions and it was so wonderful to include my almost 6 year old too. We had wonderful science-y related discussions and life was good. Now clearly, the primary purpose of going to the Museum was the prospect of the promised visit to the gift shop after the exhibits. They were given 5 dollars each so 25 dollars each later, we had a bag of rocks, a stuffed baby robin (complete with authentic baby robin sounds), something slimy that will only serve as a hair and dust magnet once it enters our house, and, the prized item, an authentic sharks tooth about 3 inches long in its own case. This set me back a billion dollars.
Now, I am not so delusional to believe that we will still be able to locate the tooth in the next 30 days. We live in a shoebox, but items seem to magically disappear without notice. But, imagine my eyeballs rolling into the back of my head when I hear my son screech “Where’s my sharks tooth?” not even one hour after returning home. We went on a frantic shark hunt turning over pillows and feeling between the couch cushions (we found food there! YUCK!). Finally, I noticed my daughter with that satanic look on her face she gets when she ate the canary. “Honey…do you know where the tooth is?” “I took it.” So now I lost my mind and began lecturing about property and how I will leave her outside for the raccoon if she touches anything in this house again. She got the message and slowly climbed the ladder to my son’s bunk bed and reached under his pillow. “I left it here so the Tooth Fairy could give Marc money.”
[insert collective AWWWWWWWWW here]