I Hate the Tooth Fairy
Of all of the mythological children’s gift-bearing creatures that visit our home, the capricious Tooth Fairy is by far the most unreliable and fly-by-night. Perhaps it is because the Easter Bunny and Santa only have one set day of the year and preparations are made weeks and months before their annual visit. Tooth Fairy stopovers on the other hand, are based on the whim of an apple bite or a piece of stale gum.
The Fairy seems to be constantly taken off guard around here. Her pay rates are arbitrary -- no one ever knows if they’ll get a quarter or a twenty -- I would guess whatever she has in her wallet at a given moment is the guideline. I know she doesn’t often have cash on her, and desperately wishes that she’d find a credit card swipe under my children’s pillow when she searches for a lost incisor.
The kids do not make her job very easy either, I may add. In addition to forgetting to announce that they have a tooth under the pillow, they have actually swallowed a couple of teeth. Tearfully, my son wondered what he was going to do for his ransom. I assured him that this sort of thing must happen all of the time (although I’ve never heard of it) and that he should write a note to her explaining the predicament. Dear T.F., I accidentally swallowed my loose tooth. If you still want it, I’ll have it back in a couple of days.
Not that notes are at all helpful to our Fairy. I suspect that she often wakes up in a maternal panic that she forgot this dental ritual and will ruin her children’s, I mean my children’s, picture perfect childhood nostalgia. Maybe she also wonders what she is supposed to do with the morbid collection she just paid for. Too icky to keep, yet she’ll feel too guilty to throw away the skeletal souvenirs.
Many times, I have had to rush in to a panicked child frantically searching the bed for his loot. In the hunt and with a sleight of hand, I curiously always find it in my robe pocket, "Look, it must have fallen under the bed ... I can’t help but worry that if the Tooth Fairy’s head is this far in the clouds for the oldest child, by the time the baby starts to lose teeth, she’ll be lucky to get a handful of car wash tokens and a paper clip under her pillow.
After a midnight run to the ATM last night, it occurred to me that whatever the psychological reasons, getting a pay out from this orally-fixated pixie in our house is like trying to pull teeth.
As I grit mine.
[That's Kirstie Alley in the Tooth Fairy from the ABC movie, Toothless. Maybe she can bring the money next time!]