teeth are not edible

Carter, while whining about how he didn't want a sausage english muffin sandwich for breakfast this morning, ate it anyway and consequently ate his loose tooth at the same time.  

The tooth was so loose yesterday that a strong breeze would have blown it out of his mouth, but somehow it hung on for dear life until it met it's unfortunate temporary resting place of Carter's digestive system.

Too bad the Tooth Fairy can't pay for teeth soaking in stomach acid (or something worse).   And even more too bad is how disappointed Carter is that I won't retrieve the tooth when it makes it's final appearance in a few days.

Another event worth remembering occurred at our home yesterday after a FHE Kiwi Loco run with Steve's parents.

Steve's mom told the boys how Steve earned spending money in high school by rubbing her back and feet.

She paid well.

The boys (of course) wanted in on the paying gig, so Grandma Dixon gave the boys a lesson on proper feet and back rubbing.  

I'm calling it the "Grandma Spa."

Andrew hiding his face, but enjoying his high scale foot massage...

while simultaneously taking in all the pointers.

If he can learn the proper technique, he has been promised the high life of a steady "grandma pays her grandchildren way too much" job.

Now the boys are constantly asking if they can practice their skills on my back and feet.

Um...they are not up to snuff yet.  Just thinking about their pinchy back rubs makes me squirm.

Saylor, feeling a bit left out, climbed up on the couch and demanded a foot massage too.

(no joke, this was all her idea)

Grandma was happy to oblige.

(yep, my heart was a big melty puddle)

...and Saylor isn't just climbing up on the couch.

Colby yelled upstairs yesterday evening (before the grandma spa) that he needed help!

This is what I found when I came downstairs.

I'm a bad parent.

Monkey girl had scaled the chairs and table to reach the basement window ledge.

I'm a really bad parent.

I ran back upstairs to get the camera instead of pulling my daughter out of the ledge.

She screamed bloody murder when I pulled her down and about died when I moved the chairs.

Doesn't she know that non broken bones really are better?

And for the Tron fans out there here is an update:

The boys are insisting I call our van The Light Runner.

(enter eye roll here)

Sadly, just because we're calling it a cool name, doesn't make driving it any cooler.