That would be tomorrow, that big birthday.  We’re plenty excited about it, too.  Not my birthday, by the way.  It’s the birthday of that cute Liz Sayre, official wife of Dave, who must have been born twenty years after her birthdate, she’s so cute. 

Mark lost his penultimate tooth yesterday, a molar.  He put his hand out with this odd thing in it, “Here, Dad” and I looked at it — “what is that?”  “It’s my tooth.”  Ah, it finally came out.  The tooth fairy had to remember to put baseball cards under the pillow last night.  He did.