(Translation: He got home at quarter after 6 and neither of us wanted to cook. And I'd been contemplating dinner out anyway.)
We went to one of our favorite semi-local places, GVD (it's about 10-15 minutes down the road, between here and our last burg). The kids whooped and hollered, because they know eating at GVD guarantees ice cream for dessert. Plus, we hadn't been there in over a month.
The food is good, the service is fast, and we're now waiting for Small Fry to finish mangling her roll, eat it, and for the waitress to come back so we can place our ice cream orders.
Small has been showing off her wiggly tooth all week. The same one her sisters also lost first. She shows it again to Hubby, who exclaims that it's really getting loose.
He's just admonished her again that we can't order ice cream until she's done.
And there's a little squeak from Small Fry. "I lost my toof!"
Hubby whips around to look at her.
Sure enough, her little tiny tooth is laying there on the table.
"Let me look at your mouth, honey," he says, passing off the tooth to me for safekeeping. He presses a clean napkin into the hole, and instructs her to let him hold it there.
"Is it bweeding?" Small asks around the napkin.
"A little. Holding this helps it stop."
The waitress picked that point to come back to our table for our ice cream orders. She waited as our first-lost-tooth insanity settled down, and then took our ice cream orders.
Of course, we had to take a picture to send to Gramma and Boppa.
First day of kindergarten on Monday, first lost tooth today.
I may go cry.