Well, let me back up and set the stage.
Genevieve was thrilled today to find that she had a loose tooth: she'd been jealous that James was on the verge of losing one, but now she too had prospects of Tooth Fairy loot. They wiggled their teeth and compared them over the course of the day. On the way home, hers came out. There was much talk of how excited she was for morning, and how she planned to put a note under her pillow with the tooth, explaining all the details. James tried not to be jealous, but his had been loose for several days, and he was a bit frustrated that she beat him to putting one actually under the pillow after a mere day of looseness. He redoubled his wiggling, but to no avail.
Then - alas! During the car ride, Genevieve dropped the tooth, and couldn't see where it fell. There was much weeping and gnashing of - you know - but it seemed a simple case: the tooth had to be in the car. She looked. James looked. Nothing. More weeping. We insisted she stop fussing for the rest of the ride, as we adults would certainly find it when we got home.
Well, I searched diligently for that tooth, but have no idea where it could be.
Fortunately, Priscilla had experienced this several times (she swallowed at least two teeth, for example), and set about persuading Genevieve that all would be well. "But my note to the Tooth Fairy was supposed to be a minor part of the plan, and now it has to be the only plan!" Sister comfort triumphed in the end, and there was at last peace.
Suddenly: "My tooth came out!" James exclaimed. Instantaneously, he held it out. "Here, Genevieve. You can put this under your pillow."
(Yes, she accepted: "Thank you, James! It's just like mine was . . . only bloodier!")
Some days, it seems all they do is annoy each other on purpose, complain about each other, and speak angrily to each other. But when it counts, the "tooth" will out: there's real love there.