On a holiday trip to my Mom's house, she pulled out a letter I'd written when I was about 5. It went something like this: "Dear tooth fairy: My tooth came out, but I lost it. Please give me some money anyway. Thank you, Tara."
As savvy as I consider myself to be now, it's hard to recall a time when I believed in the tooth fairy. And I can only imagine the logical sequence that likely unfolded when reality dawned on me -- not only is there no tooth fairy, but my Mom has just been collecting each tooth from under my pillow (is that sanitary?) and replacing it with a dollar from her purse? That must have been both illuminating and deeply anticlimactic, at the same time.
Readers of the second edition of David Reed's "Mortgage Confidential: What