In Which I Discover that the Tooth Fairy Apparently has Become Much More Generous than I Thought

                 Kiddo lost another tooth tonight, and has decided that she will write a note to the Tooth Fairy to negotiate a better fee.  Apparently, other kids at school get twenty-five dollars a tooth.  Kiddo gets a dollar.  Apparently inflation has hit the Tooth Fairy hard, as my siblings and I got nickels, unless Mom and Dad didn't have any change.  I managed to swallow my curse-laden exclamation of disbelief just in time, but  holy crabcakes.  This just reminds me of all those memes floating around that beg us to credit Santa for only the stockings so the children of less-well-off people don't wonder if they're being punished.  I implied that our Tooth Fairy works on a different scale. 

                Kiddo spent eight years as the only grandchild on both sides of the family.  Fuzzy and I are the youngest children of our families, so our kids have older grandparents who have more leisure time to spend thinking about how much they love their grandbabies, as well as doting aunts and uncles.  For us, it means that we carefully balance things to avoid spoiling the kids.  Kiddo has her own room at Fuzzy's mother's house, and until Fuzzy's father got very sick, she would spend a couple weekends a month over there.  The time and attention was worth more to her than the stuff, and I'm looking forward to the pandemic improving, so she can be over there again.  Their house was built in the 1920s as a family complex, with a few apartments attached to it.  They rented those out to some wonderful people, as well as some of the guest rooms, so when we are over there, it's like visiting a village of friends.  Kiddo is especially loved over there, and her room there is filled with toys and art supplies.  Conveniently, the pandemic hit just about the time that her little sister would be expecting to partake in the goodies, so it remains Kiddo's special place.

                As a family, we are working to prevent spoiling, though, with varying degrees of success.  When she asks why she can't have some of the largess her classmates have, we point out that we are attempting to teach her to be content with what she has.  In my  opinion, it is one of the best lessons we can teach our children--contentment.  If I can manage to make her understand that she can make what she has into what she wants, and that her happiness does not depend on having the next thing, I will have set her up for life.

                Thinking of that, Fuzzy has requested my Christmas list for this year.  I have only a couple ideas, because I have so much already.  I can sew for the next decade before I run out of anything.  My backlog of books could keep me reading for years.  I wouldn't wish clothes shopping for me on my worst enemy.  Poor Fuzzy.  He has some really good ideas for me, and most of them don't even require much hunting or effort.  Last year, we got each other tickets for a show that was coming through Sacramento in May.  We still haven't seen it.  I'm hopeful for their rescheduled date this coming June.

                A long time ago, Fuzzy asked me what I wanted from my life.  I told him I wanted to be content and peaceful, to see new things and to learn.  I think we're on track for now.