Hank’s last words before going to sleep tonight: ” $11.99. That’s how much I should ask for my tooth from the Tooth Fairy.”
I ask him why $11.99.
“Diary of a Wimpy Kid,” he says.
“What about it?” I ask.
“I don’t have Book Seven.”
I asked him a ridiculous question.
“Promise me you will always be my little boy.”
I didn’t like asking it, but it was only a few weeks ago when his first top tooth fell out. My baby boy is not a baby anymore.
When he showed me his big, bloodied, gaping hole in the middle of his mouth, I winced and felt a sudden loss. He’s changing and growing, and he won’t be my baby boy forever.
I was sure Hank was going to roll his eyes at me and remind me how impossible it was to promise things like that.
“Of course I will. It’s impossible to not be your baby boy,” he says.