I was robbed before I turned six. And became a thief because of it.
You see, I had a loose tooth. My first loose tooth. I listened avidly to the tales of the Tooth Fairy visit, trading money for my tooth. And yes, I believed.
I dreamed of the riches I could buy with that dime! Two chocolate bars, yards of shoestring licorice, a bag of jawbreakers or bubblegum. Enough candy to make myself sick.
I wriggled that tooth every day, trying to get it out before Saturday. Shopping day.
Thursday it snowed. Heavy, snowman building, fort excavating, snowball snow.
Ger threw a snowball at me after school. Right in the mouth!
My tooth disappeared. Not even a line of blood to show me where it had dropped.
I wailed my loss at the dinner table. But Dad said no tooth, no trade.
I figured Ger owed me his next loose tooth. After all, if he hadn't thrown that snowball, I'd've been ten cents richer.
I planned my revenge; waited for weeks.
On his next anticipated Tooth Fairy visit, I snuck into his room, stealing that tooth. I tucked it under my pillow anticipating the Tooth Fairy's visit and the dime.
Ger showed off his dime at breakfast.
But he didn't have his tooth, I complained, opening the 'tooth hanky' to show off his stolen tooth. The fairy didn't trade for it.
My spanking stung for hours.
I still believe he owes me for my tooth.