and turned on the bedside lamp!
"Sorry, Mama!" he fake-whispers. (I still don't know why he hasn't learned how to whisper properly.)
And then he proceeds to read, half to himself, half to me, as I begin to drift back to sleep to the sounds of Wolverine.
But no sooner was I imagining myself lounged out on the Amalfi Coast being hand-fed grapes, and wine, and cheese by a...
"MAMA!!!" he whisper-yells.
"Huh? Wha?!" I reluctantly peek out from beneath the coolness of my pillow.
"MAMA!" he says again, much less gently.
"Uhhnnn...yes, Bubba?" I roll over. "What is it?"
And he's sitting there with a huge face-encompassing toothless grin, holding the big chomper in his hand like a trophy.
"I pulled it out, Mama!" he proclaims proudly.
"I just reached in and yanked it right out."
"Oh, Bubba, congratulations!!" I say. "We need to get it into your toothbox for the Tooth Fairy tonight."
"Oh, no," he says. "I think I better brush it first."