The place: Auckland, at a fancy restaurant on the waterfront. Y is fast asleep on S's lap. The three of us are tucking into some scrumptious ravioli and lasagne. Suddenly, Ads cries out (with a distinct look of alarm on his face) "Amma, my tooth broke!"
He couldn't find the tooth and since it meant he must have swallowed it (pesto flavour and all), he was very agitated that a "tooth tree" would start growing out of his mouth in a few weeks. The tooth....oops...the idea had been planted in his head by yours truly in a moment of ill-timed jest, briefly forgetful of the fact that Ads tends to take things a little too seriously and literally.
We calmed him down, rinsed out his mouth and he resumed his seat with a relieved and happy smile on his face. He has been yearning for the tooth to fall out for a few months. Being the youngest in his class, he was the last man left standing with all 20 milk teeth firmly in place and he wanted to take his place with the big boys and girls. I promised him the tooth fairy would come by once we landed in India and he retorted "Amma, there's no such thing as a tooth fairy. I know it's you who will give me the money."
Strange. The man knows there's no tooth fairy but is ready to believe that a fallen tooth will take root in his stomach :)