Rite of passage (part 2)

He was eating cheese ravioli at Valentini's. Mid-bite, he reached into his mouth. "Mom! Look," he said, proudly pulling out the small white tooth.

No pain. No tears. And the fresh gap in my son's mouth didn't deter him from finishing his ravioli or enjoying a piece of birthday cake.

Grandma Diane's birthday dinner was enhanced. Tooth in hand, we walked slowly around the table and showed all of the aunts, uncles and cousins -- as well as the waitress.

I carefully slipped the tooth into a zippered pocket in my purse. When we got home, his dad helped him put the tooth into an envelope and place it under his pillow.

Sometime during the night, the tooth fairy came. She took the tooth and left behind a $1 bill.