Fizzy Follies: The Tooth Fairy

Hello my loves!

Our daughter has the worst luck with teeth.

This isn’t an exaggeration. The kid is cursed. When she was ten-months-old she had a tooth that hadn’t even come in yet bitten out by a dog. Last year she had a tooth knocked out in gymnastics class. Two months ago she had to have a tooth pulled after she broke it eating applesauce.

APPLESAUCE.

Because screw teeth, that’s why.

Of the five teeth she’s lost, only one was of natural circumstances.

Cursed chompers, I tell ya.

Monday afternoon, I got the most dreaded of calls from her school. Poor Lola had been hurt on the playground. She’d fallen from the highest monkey bars, her knee popped up and knocked one of her front teeth right out. Lots of bleeding, possible damage to the grown-up tooth underneath, and banged up the tooth next to it.

Luckily, Miss Lola is totally fine.

Her biggest concern was that the tooth had been lost in the mulch on the playground and the Tooth Fairy wouldn’t stop by.

Let me explain our family’s stance on the Tooth Fairy.

Before we had kids, the hubs and I decided we would never tell our children one way or the other anything regarding the Tooth Fairy, Santa, Easter Bunny, etc. They would hear about these fun creatures and we would let the kids make up their own mind.

Even now as Lola says kids at school say the Tooth Fairy isn’t real, I ask her what she thinks. She says she likes to believe in things because it’s more fun that way, so she chooses to believe in everything.

Toddler Lola was never particularly interested in any of these things, except the Tooth Fairy.

Now six-year-old Lola is obsessed with the thought of her.

I mean, it’s a fairy who brings you money, guys. What’s not to love there?

I’m not entirely sure if she *actually* believes in this magic, but she sure believes in the joy of waking up to dollars under her pillow.

The school took this into their hands before they called me to calm her down saying they knew for a fact that the Tooth Fairy accepted a note from parents in lieu of missing teeth and she would still get her dollars.

This plan worked great.

Hubs and I decided that this traumatic tooth loss deserved a little bump in the usual tooth fairy payment, and we went all out by adding some “fairy dust”. (Read: Glitter. The herpes of the craft cabinet.)

Lola very thoughtfully wrote a note to the Tooth Fairy that night explaining what had happened to her tooth and exactly where to find it on the playground. She even had me add a line saying, “Please excuse Lola’s missing tooth. Sincerely, Lola’s Mom”

This should have been an adorable ending to a bad day, right?

Pssh. It’s me. Of course it isn’t.

Hubs suggested that a few days after the Tooth Fairy visit, we would place a letter from Madam TF under Lola’s pillow saying she had found the tooth and thank her for her wonderful help in finding it.

I’m glad we are lazy and hadn’t gotten around to it yet because yesterday, Lola flies off the bus in a giddy gallop excited to show me something.

The tooth. She found the damn tooth.

The phrase “needle in a haystack” doesn’t even cover this. This is a big school playground covered with a thick layer of mulch. The entires school plays on this multiple times per day.

How she managed to find this teeny, tiny little tooth days after her accident? I’ll never know. Like, ever.

But this brought up a new problem.

Lola wanted to leave the tooth for Madam TF to see if she could get a few more dollars since she’d done the searching for her. Obviously the TF had a hard time finding the tooth, so Lola had helped her out!

HOW DO YOU ARGUE WITH THIS LOGIC, YOU GUYS!?!?!?!?!?!?!

Hubs and I debated this. I’d told Lola all evening I didn’t think Madam TF would pay more for a tooth she’d already given money for. But after the kids were asleep, we decided we had to do *something* for her. To just wake up to a missing tooth was too pitiful.

So, we dug out a dollar, threw it in a bag with more “fairy dust” and Hubs went on the mission.

And came running out of her room seconds later in a panic.

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t find a tooth. Her blanket made noise when he touched it. He would wake her up. HER LIFE WOULD BE RUINED OH EM GEE.

Keep in mind I had already gone to bed when this happened. I was grumpy and like, “FINE. Mom will do it. Grumble, grumble, grumble.”

I stealthly made my way into her room, and it was true, the tooth was hard to find. But hey, I’m Mom. I totally found the tooth.

I was feeling smug as hell, by the way. It’ took me thirty seconds to find the tooth. I was already mentally practicing the eye roll I would give Hubs as I sauntered out with the tooth.

It was that moment my hand brushed against the note Lola had left with the tooth.

Okay, sure. No problem. Grab the note, shove in the dollar, run.

This was the loudest piece of fucking paper that has ever existed in the universe. Wedged between a pillow and a blanket I’m pretty sure is made out of super sensitive bubble wrap.

How could it possibly have been that loud!?

I tried to gently pull it out bit by bit.

And then my daughter sat straight up in bed.

Her back was to me, so I did what any self-respecting parent would do.

I hit the floor and crawled under her bed.

She climbs out of bed, and half-asleep walks to the bathroom.

I scrambled out, grabbed that god-forsaken note, shoved the money under the pillow, and prepared to retreat.

I get out her door and realize she is using the potty with the door open.

I can’t get out of her room without walking past the bathroom.

I was totally having a panic attack that I was about to ruin my child’s innocence forever and ever.

I immediately think to hide the giant note and tooth in my clothes.

I’m not wearing clothes. Only bra and undies. Oh god.

My sleeping habits really are a perpetual pain in my ass.

I shove the tooth in my bra, but the stupid fireworks BOOM level paper was not going to make a hasty retreat.

Thinking fast, I curled it up, hid it behind my arm, and quickly pretended I was coming out of her brother’s room as she made her way out of the bathroom.

“Sup, Lola! How’s it going? Had to potty? Great! Sleep well! I love youuuuuuuuu!”

Actual quote.

Smooooooth.

I hear her go back into her room and I ran like the coward I am.

Let’s just sum this up by saying the hubs had his moment to feel a wee bit smug.

She seemed very content this morning when she woke up to the Tooth Fairy dollars.

So, mission accomplished, even if it was a bit lacking in gracefulness.

Parenting is hard, guys.

I hope you all are having the best weeks!

Until next time,

Peace, Love, and Madam TF

 

 

4 Comments

  1. Hey, Lady. You’re not the only one. Thought you would appreciate this excellent Tooth Fairy poem by Dorianne Laux. http://terriblemother.typepad.com/my_weblog/2006/08/poem_of_the_wee_2.html

  2. I totally get where you’re coming from. Who wants to ruin the innocence of childhood? When my niece was young, she was obsessed with Tinkerbell and her fairy friends. So one day she got the bright idea to write to Tinkerbell. She put the note under her pillow and, naturally, expected an answer. My sister wrote back in fancy script and, like you, supplied “fairy dust”. The notes became a semi-regular thing. My sister was just getting the hang of it when my niece made a somewhat unusual request. Her birthday was coming up and some of her friends were starting to doubt such things as fairies. Could she make an appearance? During the party, my sister and I distracted the kids while one of her friends dad’s hid in the bushes outside with a sparkling firework. The girls ran to the window to see this unique hello from “Tinkerbell”. I think it actually changed a mind or two and my niece was thrilled.

    Of course, after this she made another request because her grandma didn’t get to see the magic. My mom lives in a senior community and has an open field behind her house. So my sister and I, loaded down with a sparkling firework and firecrackers waited until it was dark and snuck back to the neighborhood and set off the display. Uh, we were a little afraid of drawing attention from the cops, so we beat a hasty retreat, laughing hysterically. Also, Tinkerbell had got in the habit of making treats and we had to leave a plate of muffins by the front door beforehand. Crazy, but a wonderful memory for everyone. My niece is 14 now and while I doubt she still believes in Santa or fairies, she’s never voiced her doubts out loud. Maybe because she knows there’s a little magic in all of us waiting to be released.

  3. Sometimes reading your blog is a trip down memory lane. The panic attacks of the the TF days and faulty dollar-tooth-swap ninja-ness ended for us last year–seriously through the last possible tooth.

    Ya done good, Mom.

  4. The image of you crawling under her bed is priceless. PRICELESS.

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