A good save.

When my son lost his first tooth later that year, the same thing happened with the Tooth Fairy. He was mortified. He wanted no part of some stranger coming into his room in the middle of the night, flying no less, and sticking her hand under his pillow. Money or not, this was just not an idea he was comfortable with.

So, we put his pillow on the kitchen table with the tooth under it, and I'll be darned if that Tooth Fairy isn't one smart magical creature. She knew just where to go. Tooth fairies, we learned, are very accommodating.

I think about these events every time the Santas reemerge in the malls and on the street corners, and I smile. I wonder what I'd have done if we did indeed celebrate Christmas. Would I have dressed my son in his plaid finery and plunked him on St. Nick's lap at the local mall screaming in terror? You know, the way he did when he got his hair cut? Ah, the memories.

I'll never know.

What I do know is that I smile when I see the adorably dressed, color coordinated tikes lined up, sucking on their candy canes ready to meet the big guy in the red suit. And I love yanking my son's chains about sitting on Santa's lap now, at 14, when I promise Santa would be the one shaking in his boots as my baritone asked for a $600 video game system.

My son, who stands 5'9" to my 5'3", still smiles like a little boy when I tell him these tales of his long-ago worries and questions. His stature has changed, but not so much his sweetness. I've never been sorry that I rewrote the script for some childhood characters to meet the needs of our family, because one thing is certain: things change. And while my son is still somewhat tentative and cautious, at this point anyone who wants to leave money under his pillow, is more than welcome to do so.