He lost another tooth this week, and our dragon loving Bear was nicknamed, Toothless. One of his favorite movies is How to Train Your Dragon, so it was a fitting title for so noble a Bear.
He grinned at me and talked of the Tooth Fairy and his anticipated dollar.
I shook my head, trying to look mournful, “The Tooth Fairy has had some economic setbacks, Toothless. I think you’ll only get a nickel this time.”
His eyes sparkled and his dimples flashed, but he said with a touch of hesitation, “No-ho, Mom. You’re kidding, right?!” He half asked, half stated that last part.
I rumpled his hair and his daddy chimed in. “Nope. I talked with the Tooth Fairy last night, and she said no money anymore. She’s going to have to pay you in Ritz crackers.”
Bear nodded. “I LOVE Ritz!”
That. dear. boy.
After he skipped off to his room, assured that there would indeed be something from the Tooth Fairy, I looked at Bri and watched softness wave over his features. He shook his head gently and sighed, “I love that boy. His heart is so big. He just accepts things and is thankful.”
I have so much to learn from my Bear.
He counts it all joy.
He hesitates, he hurts, he struggles, he cries, but he accepts it and turns it all to joy.
That night he put his tooth in his little tooth box and placed it under his pillow. He checked a few times to make sure it stayed there, fluffed his pillow and climbed in bed. We had just finished reading a Magic Tree House book together and he was excited to start the next one, chattering away about knights and magic and books and reading. Bri was gone (a meeting then going back to work for a bit), so I stayed upstairs in my room across the hall–the kids just feel safer when I’m up there with them and Daddy’s gone.
I fell asleep (probably before Bear did), but I remembered to leave a note on Bri’s pillow reminding him to be the Tooth Fairy when he got home. Then Bella woke me at 1:30 with her coughing. We are both fighting bronchitis and the coughing, oh friends, the coughing.
She climbed into my bed and I plumped up 3 pillows and sat with her on my chest, soothing her, stroking her hair, rubbing her back, singing to her, comforting her when the coughing came. It was 3:30 before she finally fell back asleep. I texted Bri to see when he would be home (yes, he was working until 3:30 in the morning!) and looked over. There sat the reminder note and dollar on his pillow.
I eased Bella down and walked over to Bear’s room. He looked like a mummy all wrapped tight in his comforter. I slid the dollar under his pillow and kissed his forehead and then stood there gazing at him. Joy washed over me.
Being the Tooth Fairy is one of my favorite roles. Not because of who it is… my kids know it’s really us… but because being the Tooth Fairy means I get to sneak in their room and lavish on them. Bring them joy. Then I can stand there and pray for them, that God would grow them healthy and strong and wise and brave. That they would know the joy of Jesus’ peace. That they would be men and women who are devoted to Christ, who aren’t afraid to be radical.
And I realized.
Bear already is radical.
Just by choosing joy.
He skipped into the kitchen the next morning with his dollar, eyes shining. I’m going to put this in my piggy bank! He raced upstairs and then came back down and hugged me. Thanks, Mom. Oh, and by the way, you can put some Ritz in my lunch.
I laughed and squeezed him, and my heart exploded with joy.
He brings it.
By choosing it, he brings it.
And I am blessed.
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