The Tooth Fairy is Involved in the Case of the Missing Library Book

On Mondays, my 2nd grade daughter, Iris, has library at school. They are allowed to pick out two books and bring them home.

Our house is filled with children’s books. There are books in all of my children’s rooms. There are books in the living room, the attic crawl space I turned into a play area, our van and our basement holds seven shelves that our lined with children’s books. My best guess is that we own over 500 books for the kids.

If this wasn’t enough we also go to the public library every week, and pick out 15 more books.

I have always kept a close eye on the borrowed library books from school. They can be read and then immediately returned to the counter in the kitchen where I keep their daily school folders and papers that need to be signed.

This year I have two children in school so this pile is getting larger. I told Iris last week that now that she is in 2nd grade she is responsible for her library books from school and to keep them in her room.

This past Monday, while Iris was getting ready for school, I reminded her it was library day.

SHE COULD NOT FIND ONE OF HER LIBRARY BOOKS!

We searched frantically for 10 minutes before she had to leave but came up empty handed.

When Iris came home from school, she spent the rest of the afternoon scouring the house for it. She was still empty handed.

She shrugged her shoulders, gave up and said she had the perfect solution.

I have mentioned in a previous post, She Love Unicorns and Other Fancy Stuff that Iris has claimed the Tooth Fairy has her friend and pen pal.

Iris’s solution to her missing library book was to put it in the Tooth Fairy’s hands by writing her a note requesting her to find it.

To Tooth Fairy
From Iris
Dear Tooth Fairy,
Can you find Smile A Lot for me? Can you at least find it or return it on Monday or tomorrow? See you! Just tell me if you couldn’t find it.

I felt bad for the Tooth Fairy. She already has a huge workload of collecting millions of kids’ teeth and hauling a sack full of money around the world every night; and here my daughter now wants her to find a missing library book.

The Tooth Fairy collected her note Monday night from my daughter’s “tooth fairy pillow” and began to search relentlessly all day Tuesday and Wednesday. I heard her jingling around downstairs going through EVERY bookshelf, pulling out every book. She scoped out all of the children’s rooms. She looked under beds, couches and chairs. She crammed her tiny body in every bag, box and nook she could find. The book is nowhere. I’m afraid the Tooth Fairy may have to call the public library and see if it accidentally got returned there.

I have a feeling the Tooth Fairy is exhausted with all of this extra work placed on her these past few days.

The Tooth Fairy was nice enough to take the time and write back to Iris though!

The Blanket Boy

None of my three children ever got attached to a blanket as a baby. I was seriously disappointed about this.

I don’t think there is anything cuter than a toddler dragging around a faded, ripped up blanket. Something about it just strikes up innocence and sweetness. But like I said, I never had one of these children.

Believe me, I tried. We had a lot of baby blankets….thin, thick, fuzzy, shiny, super soft, nubby, and all kinds of different patterns and characters. As we rocked and snuggled I always draped a blanket on them. When I put them in their cribs they all had a blanket laid on them. None of the kids were disgusted with blankets; they just didn’t want to drag them around.

I thought I had a chance with my youngest son, Cesar. When he woke up in the morning and from naps he would grab his blanket and request to bring it downstairs with him. My body felt giddy at the prospect of having a “Blanket Baby.” I dreamed of the fun challenges this would bring. I know mothers with blanket babies have a hard time getting it washed and there’s always the challenge of replacing the “irreplaceable” blanket that has been lost. My excitement in the possibility of having a “blanket fiend” was short-lived though. Cesar never carried it around. He merely brought it downstairs and never looked at it again. Months ago he even quit requesting to bring blankets downstairs.

I have made peace with this, thanks to my 5 year old son, Bency. Much to my surprise he has come to love blankets. He is actually kind of obsessed with them. Thankfully, he doesn’t want to drag them around and we didn’t have to send one to Kindergarten with him but he does like a blanket wrapped around him when he is sitting watching television. He also requested 3 blankets on his bed this fall as the nights began to get colder.

I was happy to oblige my son with three blankets and as I pulled them out of the chest I told him the story of each blanket.

The first blanket was made by my mom almost 30 years ago. When I was 7 years old I was in a sledding accident and ended up in the hospital for eight days with internal injuries. While I lay in my hospital bed my mom sat by my side and made me this quilt. I loved this quilt and always used it on my bed or to wrap up in when I watched television. I took it with me when I moved out on my own and with its age and several washings it began to tear and get faded. I requested my mom to repair it several times.

The blanket my mom made me when I was 7 years old

She did repair my blanket but she also made me a new quilt. This one was equally loved even though I received it in my 20’s. This one now gets added to my daughter’s bed every Fall.

The second blanket my mom made me that now gets added to my daughter’s bed every fall

The second two blankets I added to my son’s bed, share the same story. They were crocheted by my Great-Grandma Palma on my father’s side. She was Norwegian, very creative and always busy. She made these for my parents in the 1970’s. I remember they always draped over our olive green sofa when I was little. When I moved out of my parent’s house they were passed down to me.

the blankets my Great-Grandma Palma crocheted

When I finished telling the stories of the blankets to my son; he looked at me very earnestly and said, “Mom, please don’t ever pass these blankets down. I want to keep them forever.”

I told him that we would keep them forever.

Little did he realize, I was in fact passing them down to him at this moment as I placed the blankets on his bed.

He is my blanket boy.

Spooky Barbie…A Halloween Project

Hands down, Halloween is my favorite holiday. My love for Halloween can be contributed to the fact that it lands in my favorite season, Fall and that my strongest characteristic of being and doing things imperfect fits well with this holiday!

This past weekend my family jump started this festive season with a trip to get pumpkins and with a project I whirled up in my head.

I have dubbed this project: Spooky Barbie

My spooky Barbie

This project wasn’t really a stretch for me because as a child I LOVED giving my dolls haircuts and dyeing their hair with Kool-Aid.

This weekend I took it up one more notch though!

I knew full well that my daughter was not going to lend me any of her Barbies for this project so I stopped at a rummage sale and picked up two Barbies along with a bigger doll for my son.

The dolls from the rummage sale

  • At home I gave the kids acrylic paint and told them to paint the dolls to look…..SPOOKY!!!
  • After the paint dried, we dyed the blond dolls’ hair in purple food coloring.
  • After their hair was dry, I applied hair spray and we teased their hair to make it look…CRAZY!!!
  • Next I fashioned dresses for them using old white burp cloths that I cut into a square, cut a hole in the middle and then I tied this makeshift dress around the middle with a ribbon.
  • The final step was using watercolor paint to paint their dresses.

This was a cheap, simple project and truth be told….I would love this project even if I didn’t have kids!!!

Our spooky dolls!

You Have A Broken Heart

I mentioned in a previous post my ears are often assaulted by really Dumb Arguments thanks to my kids. The other day held another fine example.

We were driving along in the van when I heard arguing brewing in the back seat. I couldn’t hear the exact dialogue but could certainly recognize the growls, sighs and high-pitch “no’s” that were being emitted.

Finally, my 7 year old daughter, Iris, let out a, “Mom!!!! Bency is emptying my bucket!!”

I immediately panicked and began frantically looking in my rear view mirror and trying to steal glances over my shoulder.

Who brought a bucket in the van????” I wailed.

What is being emptied inside the van???” I wailed again.

I envisioned hundreds of roly-poly bugs being strewn throughout the van (a usual favorite to put in buckets in our house).

I turned the volume on the radio down and Iris explained. She said that during her Life Skills class at school, her teacher told them that we all have an “internal bucket”. When someone does or says something mean to us it empties our bucket.

She then told me that Bency, our 5 year old, emptied HER bucket when he said that she “HAD A BROKEN HEART”.

I know Bency has no clue what a broken heart is and I’m assuming he learned this terminology listening to the radio because almost every song is about someone with a broken heart.

I wasn’t going to get into a lengthy conversation about “broken hearts.”

I simply told Bency, “Please quit emptying your sister’s bucket!”

For good measure I threw in, “And don’t ever bring any buckets into the van!!”

Iris emptying a bucket when she was 3 years old