Standing in the bathroom getting ready for work, I hear my bedroom door open and close. Looking through the doorway, I spy my 12-year-old son slowly walking across the room. It is clear he is feeling dejected about something. What could it be this time?
"The tooth fairy brought me money but forgot my tooth," he says, swinging his arm in a dramatic arc to plop the plastic bag with his tooth inside onto my dresser.
Oops. What number parent fail is this? There have been so many, I have lost count.
"You have the lamest tooth fairy ever," I say. It's true. Sad to say, this isn't the first time she has goofed. Fortunately, he is running out of teeth. And it isn't like he still believes. But still, after all these years you'd think we would have this routine down.
"Yeah," he grumbles.
"How much money did you get?" I ask, trying to focus on the positive. At least we remembered to leave money this time.
"Yeah," he replies as he walks out of the room.
And this time his "yeah" sounds a little bit brighter.