Innocent until proven guilty

Gabriel lost his first tooth on Sunday. This was especially exciting, and something of a relief for him. He is seven, and many of his peers have been losing teeth for 2 years now, and he was getting worried.

He had even exchanged correspondence with the tooth fairy, asking if she had any insight as to when he might expect this event to occur.

Yes, my children and the tooth fairy are pen pals. Her name is Mirabelle. If I ever run out of things to write about, or want to make you laugh, Mirabelle's origin myth, as well as excerpts from her correspondence with Sarah, could give me material for several posts.

Anyway, Gabriel lost his tooth (literally; he swallowed it), and was worried that Mirabelle would not know to visit him because he had no evidence. So he left a note of explanation under his pillow.

Meanwhile, Sarah lost a tooth a few months ago, and — my bad — MIRABELLE FORGOT TO VISIT. Sarah reminded us of this on Sunday evening before she went to bed.

I'm fairly certain she knows by now that I AM MIRABELLE, but money is money, so she's willing to keep up the charade.

On my way up to bed, I placed a note for each of them, and some coins — 2 silver dollars for Gabriel, this being his first tooth, and one for Sarah — under Gabriel's pillow. Gabriel's pillow, because when school ends, Sarah more or less moves into her brother's room for the summer, and bunks with Gabriel.

In the morning, Catherine Leigh Dollanganger, Sarah had her coin, and Gabriel had nothing but a note.

Hmm.

I checked the sheets, looked under the mattress, and did a sweep of the perimeter.

No coins.

Gabriel handled this with admirable grace, especially since HIS SISTER HADN'T EVEN LOST A TOOTH, in part, because at least he had his note as evidence that Mirabelle had been there, but also because he is, by nature, trusting and generous spirited.

Yet David and I were suspicious, and I asked Sarah if she might have any idea where Gabriel's coins were.

She gave nothing away.

She is still, thankfully, an awful liar, and didn't even do the shifty eyed thing that she usually does when she is being untruthful. And so, I gave her the benefit of the doubt.

She was quiet all day yesterday, which seemed to me more evidence that perhaps she was telling the truth, as normally she cannot live for more than an hour before her guilty conscience gets the better of her and a confession comes gushing out unbidden. I've always thought she would be terrible under hostile interrogation.

Still, we were a bit suspicious, because as she moves closer to the teenage years, she is beginning get better at the art of deception.

So this morning, I decided to set a trap.

I stripped Gabriel's bed to wash the linens, and discovered a new note from Mirabelle apologizing for the missing coins, along with $7 to make up for the error.

The tooth fairy is normally not this generous in our house, and so I figured this would really chap Sarah's ass. She is, after all, someone who always has her eyes peeled on the ground looking for money (she's pretty good at finding it, too), and at age 10, is not above crawling around in a shop to hunt for spare change.

Still, nothing.

Just an hour ago, Sarah and Sacha were roughhousing, and Sarah lost an earring. She asked me to help her look for it, but it was nowhere to be found.

As I exited the room I said, "It's funny sometimes how things just disappear, isn't it? It's kind of like Gabriel's coins."

Her voice quavered, and her eyes got a little shifty, as she replied: "Mom, I feel like you are trying to accuse me of taking Gabriel's coins!"

"Of course not," I said. "I'm just saying that things are mysterious. Something is here one minute and then, it's gone, without a trace."

I felt certain she was about to crack, but I was wrong.

And so, I remind myself that this is the beauty of the American justice system; innocent until proven guilty, right?

And yet, I can't help but worry about the things she is going to pull over on us in just a few years time.

One thing is certain, though; the next time Gabriel loses a tooth, I'm putting his money in a sealed envelope.

forty-one

I never knew there was such a thing as love at first sight, but that is the only explanation for my first thought upon seeing you: that is the man I am going to marry. The second thing I thought, because I was such a pessimist at the time, was, I hope he is not gay.

I am happy to say that the former turned out to be true, as did the latter.

With your forty-first birthday, we have reached the point where we have known each other for more than half our life. We were kids when we met, and since then we have continued to grow up together.

The day we met the shape of my life changed. I used to be certain the glass was half-empty; now I know it is not even half-full, but overflowing.

Once I said to you many years ago, "When I am with you, I feel like I can eat whatever I want," and it has been a metaphor for so many things that I never imagined possible for me.

You are, and continue to be, the thing in my life that is always easy and effortless. I am grateful for the privilege of being your wife, and that you are the one I lay my head down next to at night.

Happy birthday, my bashert. Call Tony to collect your present.

Slinging hash: Spaghetti with basil aoli

Spaghetti with Basil Aioli
adapted from Giada de Laurentis
4-6 servings

Note: This recipe makes enough aioli for two meals, or spread leftover sauce on sandwiches.

1 bunch asparagus cut into 1" pieces, tips reserved
1 pound spaghetti

1 garlic clove, minced
2 large egg yolks
2 teaspoons Dijon mustard
1 teaspoon freshly squeezed lemon juice
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
pinch cayenne pepper
1/2 cup vegetable oil
1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil
1/2 cup basil cut in chiffonade

Parmesan or Romano cheese, grated

Bring a large pot of water to boil. Salt generously, add asparagus pieces, reserving tips, cook 4 minutes.
Add asparagus tips, cook one more minute. Fish out the asparagus with a skimmer, place in a bowl of ice water to cool.

Make the aioli:
Combine garlic, egg yolks, mustard, lemon juice, salt, pepper, and cayenne in an immersion blender or food processor and run the machine to mix. With the machine running, slowly drizzle in the oils.

Meanwhile, cook spaghetti in the same pot of water until al dente, 8-10 minutes.

Place half of the aioli and the asparagus in a saucepan, add a few ladles full of pasta cooking water to thin. When pasta is still firm to the bite, use tongs to move it into the saucepan and toss.

Gently stir in the basil by hand.

Correct seasoning, serve with grated cheese.

Get your child into bed, pronto.

Bathtime: A play in one act

The bathroom of a suburban home. Three year-old son has stayed up too late, and is overtired. He's also covered in sunscreen, chlorine, aioli, and bits of spaghetti. Mother places child in the tub.

Mother: I'm going to wet your hair now. Close your eyes so you don't get water in them.

Mother proceeds to pour water over child's head.

Son: What are you doing? Don't DO that!

Mother: Now I'm going to wash your hair.

Son: Okay.

Mother shampoos son's hair.

Son: Stop it, stop it, STOP IT!

Mother: Now I'm going to rinse your hair. Close your eyes, and tilt your head back so you don't get soap in your eyes.

Son: Okay.

Mother proceeds to rinse son's hair.

Son (eyes closed): I CAN'T SEE! I CAN'T SEE!

Son opens eyes.

Son: OW, OW, OW!

Mother: Now I'm going to wash your face.

Mother washes child's face.

Son: HOT SAUCE IS BURNING!!!

Bath is completed in under 2 minutes. Son is dried off.

Mother: I have to put some lotion on you.

Mother gently massages child's skin.

Son: OW, OW, OWEEEEE!

Mother quickly diapers son and puts on his pajamas. She contemplates brushing his teeth, thinks better of it, gives son a kiss and throws him into bed.

Imaginary love

Yesterday Sacha was watching Dora the Explorer. Dora always end the show by posing summary questions to her viewing audience. As dull as I find the little Latina automaton, it is cute when my kids have a conversation with her.

"What's your name?" Dora asked.

"Sacha!" he replied. So far, so good.

"How old are you?"

Sacha responded, "Seven."

And...the buzzer sounded, because the correct answer would be three; it's Gabriel, who turned seven this week.

MY SON WAS LYING TO IMPRESS AN IMAGINARY GIRL.

I wasn't sure if I should be proud of how quickly he thought on his feet, or alarmed by his duplicity.

One thing is for certain, though: he is SO ready for online dating.

Senior moment

Yesterday was Gabriel's birthday, and my mother and her husband came to spend the afternoon with us. Top notch grandmother that she is, my mother put on a bathing suit and came to the pool. This was a luxury for me, as I am usually too busy keeping the devil Sacha from drowning, so it freed me up to spend the afternoon swimming with Gabriel.

The biweekly water aerobics class was ending as Gabriel and I frolicked in the pool. The demographic for this class is largely a 60+ crowd, partly, I imagine, because the mothers of young children are not free for such pursuits, and partly, because, water aerobics is largely the domain of the winter-in-Florida crowd.

A woman in her seventies approached me, beaming and said, "What a lovely hat!"

I smiled, and thanked her for the complement.

And then, I realized something. OLD LADIES WEAR HATS.

I had been in the old lady section of the pool, wearing a hat. As this woman approached me, I was, in fact, moving from the four foot to three foot section of the pool not by swimming under the rope, which would have been the most expedient route, but by exiting, and reentering the pool.

I did this because I was wearing my hat, and sunglasses, and, it seemed like a bother to remove them, dive under the rope, and replace them.

And then, I realized something else. OLD LADIES DO NOT LIKE TO MESS UP THEIR HAIR.

If I am to be completely honest, I also exited the pool because I bleached my hair a few weeks ago, and am not unconcerned about the chlorine giving my hair a greenish tinge.

Which made me realize something else. OLD LADIES HAVE WHITE HAIR.

Never mind that I vaulted out of the pool with the grace of a gymnast. And that I thought my blonde hair made me look more punk than septuagenarian.

I WAS ACTING LIKE AN OLD LADY, and I had been recognized as a kindred spirit.

But then again, I am forty, and it is a nice hat, and so I decided to take it as the complement that it was meant to be.

Seven

Today you are seven years old, Gabriel, and not a day goes by where you don't nearly bring me to my knees with your sweetness. In honor of your birthday, here is a list of just seven of the things I love about you:

1. We named you for an angel, and every day you live up to your name.
2. You wake up singing.
3. Recently, we got confirmation of something we already knew: you are very, very smart. But more importantly, you are wise beyond your years, and you work very hard.
4. You often think of others before thinking of yourself.
5. Your big brown eyes.
6. Your sweet cleft chin, which makes you especially handsome.
7. You need to work on your poker face.

Your present has not yet arrived in the mail, but if you check your email, you will find out what it is. In the mean time, because today is your day, we will spend it as you like, doing the things you love to do best.