And the tooth fairy has visited us!

The brat was sitting in a corner, silent, self absorbed, and not generally decimating the house. Mamma went to him curious, checked his forehead. This checking of the forehead has now become a reflex action, after the past few months of hell. All cool. Mamma sees him mouth open tongue pushing a tooth back and forth. Mamma sank like a stone to the welcoming sofa. The child's teeth are now shaking. Her baby is now officially a big boy. No longer a baby. His milk teeth, his beautiful beautiful pristine white, perfectly aligned milk teeth which sprouted peacefully, without giving mamma endless agony over upset stomachs and infections and such like, were now falling off. Mamma, unable to resist a shaking tooth, like popping the bubbles on bubble wrap, shook the tooth vigorously. "My baby," she cooed,"You've become a big boy. Look, your teeth are shaking, they will fall off, and you will get new teeth."
The brat grinned, pleased as punch at the prospect of being a big boy. He shook his tooth some more. "And look," Mamma billed again, "You're even growing a moustache!" This for a soft down on his upper lip. The brat inflated his chest like a prizefighting rooster. Mamma left him to his happiness and moved on to tackle her chores for the day. Five minutes later the brat went into the bathroom, stared at his shaky tooth and emerged with a gap in his teeth, and his shaky tooth in his hand. "I pulltit out. Lookatit. Now I become a beeg boy?" Hope shining in his eyes. "Yes," grinned mamma, happy that the extraction was so painless, and as she bent down to hug the brat, notices a faint redness above the upper lip, and asks, what happened here? "I shavedit, wid Pappa's shaving. I is a beeg boy now. I do shaving eveyday now. Like Pappa."