Allison lost a tooth while we were at the movies last night. She put it under her pillow like a normal child but also left the Tooth Fairy a note asking a lot of specific questions that only the Tooth Fairy would know (what the Tooth Fairy eats, how old she is, etc.) Allie wants to believe, but she needs to be sure.
I adore Allison, as I do Emilie, but I interact with them differently because they are…different. Someone called Allie “spirited”. I don’t even know what that means but I assume it isn’t correct because Allie transcends the English Encarta Dictionary. Cin and I use the word “Allie” as an adjective to describe something that doesn’t make sense but it is so real that it is pointless to argue, as if it is on some other plane that we just can't comprehend.
Typical of Allie, the one must have Christmas gift for her this year is one of those electronic deadbolts for her bedroom door, where you enter a code and the door unlocks, like they use in commercial office buildings. She wants this electronic deadbolt more than Ralphie wanted a Red Rider BB gun. She asks to go to the Home Depot just to look at them. Allie wanted one for her Birthday in September; however, I dismissed this idea because it didn't make sense. I have had to hear about her disappointment every week since. I disappointed her but Santa wont. As a father I am incredibly jealous of Santa. He works in a magical, non-unionized toy workshop. I work in a dirty garage at GM. I race a 26" wheeled, rim brake ghetto bike. Santa probably has a Quiring Titanium 29er with a Fox fork.
I was driving the kids to dance and Emilie pointed out a wad of gum on my seat’s headrest.
Me: “Hum…how did that get there?”
Allie (texting on her phone, not looking up and very casual): “I put it there last week.”
Me: “And you put gum on my seat because…?”
Allie (still texting and still casual): “I wanted it to get stuck in your hair.”
Me: “ah, okay, why?”
Allie (as casual as ever): “I was mad at you for not letting me spend the night at Anna’s.”
Allie (stops texting for a minute and looks up to emphasize what she was about to say): “You don’t put your head all the way back…that’s the problem.”
That’s the problem??? What the, who in, how….I didn’t even know how to respond. She is Allie.