Yesterday was like any other day.

Greg was in Mexico for work and had been away for four days. A hurricane threatening to hit the coast was also threatening to keep him there for another day–I don’t think so Rina, but nice try.

I was packing a swimming bag, witch and Cinderella costumes, on-the-go sushi bento box of California rolls for dinner in the mini-van, negotiating with Chloe to remove the bathing cap she has been wearing as a winter hat and painting Ellie’s nails blue because that’s Cinderella’s favourite nail polish colour according to Ariel (Little Mermaid) whom she met at a friend’s b-day party. Like I said, it was just like any other day.

I began a search for bobby pins in various cupboards and drawers around the house because Cinderella’s hair has to be flawless. I remember one of us had a bun being held up by at least three hundred in the not-so-distant past. Had I pitched them all or were they somewhere, clumped together with mouldy hair products hiding in an undisclosed, sticky location?

Cinderella’s upsweep was a disaster and I really needed those pins to make some sense of the nest protruding from the tippy-top of Ellie’s head. She was dressing as Cindrella for a post-swimming lesson, violin lesson requiring a costume. Thanks to all for your Halloween enthusiasm on this, the busiest day of the year.

I decided to look in my bedside drawer. It is a drawer seldom used and even I don’t really know why I have a night stand aside from needing something to house my heated mattress pad remote and my porn collection (obviously). Clump of gooey bobby pin house seemed as good a guess as any.

As I pulled the drawer open, my eyes focused on anything that resembled a small, pointy, narrow object, with preference going to things not yet glued together with hairspray. Ellie over my shoulder yelped, “Mommy! The Tooth Fairy left my treasure box from my first tooth in your drawer!”

As I removed the treasure box, the sound of a rattling tooth inside caused a bead of sweat to drip from the tippy top of my head to the tippy top of Cinderella’s dishevelled bun. I tried to run out of the room and pretend she hadn’t seen it but remembered she was five, not blind.

I carefully removed the tooth, shoved it into my pocket and tried to change the subject. If she knew the tooth was in there, I was dead in the water. This one might require actual fairy dust to pull off.

You’re probably wondering why I kept the tooth in the first place. In that moment, I had no recollection of what I did with Hanna’s first tooth but pictured a box with “baby’s first tooth” on it somewhere in this house. The image was so vivid it sits next to another box containing a lock of her curly, red hair, which sits next to a box of porn (of course). I feared if I kept Hanna’s tooth, I would be in serious trouble if I didn’t keep Ellie’s so I held on until I could make sense of it all. Then, not unlike my bobby pin collection, I forgot all about it.

I imagined being pulled over for speeding en route to swimming, violin, LCBO or otherwise and being asked to empty my pockets while being pressed up against my mini-van with a half eaten California roll stuck with seaweed to the side of my mouth.

Officer: Ma’am, do you know you have a human tooth in your pocket?

Me: Yes sir, I am aware. But did you know there’s a hurricane keeping my husband in Mexico and my daughter’s bun could scrub your pots and pans, my baby’s hair is growing through and around a bathing cap and I can’t find my bobby pin collection?

Ah Wednesdays.