Peanut and I had a date today to see a marvelous puppeteer and his marionette vignettes. I found out that P has a 55 minute sit-still threshhold, for at 56 minutes he discreetly stood up and wiggled in place for a few minutes while he watched the puppeteer’s penultimate story. We had terrible seats on the right margin and nobody behind us, so I just watched and smiled.
But that’s not the point, cute though I find it. We have business to attend to. A marketable idea. Make note:
Walking to the will call window, I explained that we were going to pick up our tickets then go to the theater.
P: Do they have little bags there?
M: [confused] There where? The ticket place or the stage place?
P: The stage place. The theater. Do they have little bags?
M: What kind?
P: The kind you need in case someone loses a tooth.
M: Bug, are you worried you’re going to lose a tooth during the performance?
P: [annoyed] No, of course not. My tooth is barely wobbly. I mean for someone else if they lose their tooth.
M: Well, people who are ready to lose a tooth are usually with a grownup, and grownups are good at finding safe places for teeth that fall out. Purses, pockets…
P: No. Not good. They need something tiny. Like a little bag.
So if you run front of house for a theater, or are looking into operating a theater…heck, if you stage manage or operate concessions at all…I’d like to send out a thought that you might want to stock little bags. For the teeth. All the falling teeth.
NaptimeWriting 
I will alert all of the house managers I know. This needs to be addressed before the holiday rush.
Every time I ordered some kind of jewelry or makeup thing online, I got a little velvet bag with a pull string. Teeth *beeeelong* in these bags. They were made for these bags.
Emily, I do appreciate your consideration. Many, many teeth during the Nutcracker season. Many.
Unicorn, I agree with you. You know I think your ideas are perfection. Peanut, however, would disagree. He doesn’t trust the drawstring and is violently opposed to velvet. For teeth. He has a firm “you must be able to see it” predilection for plastic bags. His own tooth, which he refuses to give up, is in a pirate’s tiny bottle with a just-so cork to seal it. Tooth in a bottle. Coming soon from deserted islands near you.
That child is a genius.
Ha, ha, ha, ha! Ridiculously long ago, I lost a tooth at the beach. (Drake’s Beach, to be exact.) Tooth lost at beach = tooth gone for good. Lucky for mortally distraught me, my friend’s mom had a spare in her purse (she could have won big on “Let’s Make a Deal”)–one of the byproducts of having five children. She sneaked it over to my mother who proceeded to act out a “Eureka!” moment for my benefit. Sounds like your P is doing a good job of covering all his bases!
@Kitch There are things that come out of that boy’s mouth that make me just gape and stare. On good days, it’s really cool to watch his gears turn.
@Stephane Hold. The. Phone. Spare tooth in her purse? I have literally no idea how weird that is, but it sound really freaking weird. And cool. And did I mention weird? Very nice of everyone to play along with the tooth-finding charade, but…weird. And in hindisght, do you feel more loved for all the theater? Of course you did. I would have made up a story about how lost beach teeth earn not only Tooth Fairy but Sand Fairy visits, as well. Would have doubled your winning and called it a day.
But I’m not cut out to be a mother of five, clearly.