So, we’re 2-for-4 with Sophie and the Tooth Fairy over here.
Sophie’s (age 6) first tooth came out in her sleep about a year ago.
We assumed she swallowed it. I even did the rubber gloves in the toilet with a few bowel movements to see if I could find it. But to no avail.
(Don’t judge me. Parents do a lot of weird stuff. That was right up there).
That evening, she wrote a gorgeous note to the Tooth Fairy explaining the whole I-swallowed-my-tooth-but-please-leave-money-anyways situation.
It worked like a charm. The Tooth Fairy showed up as planned with a crisp $20 bill. It’s hard to forget the excitement of the first tooth.
(The Tooth Fairy also made a mental note to keep smaller bills on hand next time.)
Tooth number two came out in regular fashion.
That evening, it was placed carefully in the little tooth-holder-pillow-contraption. Sophie went off to sleep. We went about our evening.
When Sophie came down the next morning, I was sitting at the kitchen table at my computer. She looked glum.
“The Tooth Fairy didn’t come,” she said, tears glistening in her little eyes. She was holding the little pillow and the tooth in her hands.
My heart skipped a beat. THE TOOTH FAIRY DIDN’T COME.
“Are you sure?” I asked, standing up and breaking into a light sweat. My mind scanned the inside of my wallet. Please God let there be a bill of some sort in there.
I listened to Sophie’s heart-breaking summation of what she didn’t find in her room. Full tears were flowing.
“Did you check on the floor?” I asked, pacing around. “Maybe it fell. You go and check under the blankets. I’ll be right up…”
A few minutes later, we magically…magically, I say…found a $20 bill wedged between the mattress and the headboard. It must have slipped out of the pillow, we figured.
Squeals of delight and laughter ensued. Joy and belief was restored.
A few months later, the next tooth dropped.
I went to bed early that night, leaving my husband in full responsibility of the Tooth-Fairy-pay-out-situation. Sophie had been very specific in her note to the Tooth Fairy that this time she would like a Toonie. We’re not clear on why the Toonie, but hey it worked for us.
I awoke early the next morning, as the house still slept. Before heading downstairs, I crept into Sophie’s room to double check the tooth pillow. It was on her nightstand. In the dark, I felt inside it.
The tooth was still there. I couldn’t detect any money. I slipped my hand as best I could under her pillow, beneath her sleeping head. Nothing.
Listen, I adore my husband, but COME ON, MAN.
So I went to my wallet and once again, only a $20. I crept upstairs and back into Sophie’s room and tucked the $20 bill in the pillow.
The kids awoke before my husband. Sophie presented herself in the living room, lip curled and tears twinkling in her eyes.
“Did the Tooth Fairy come??!!” I chirped. Why is her lip curled like that?
“Yes, but she didn’t bring me a Toonie,” Sophie whimpered.
“Oh. What did she bring you?” The weird fake-happy-are-you-kidding-me-sing-song tone I get sometimes rose in my voice.
“Twenty dollars,” Sophie cried. “But I wanted a Toonie!!” Once again, full tears were flowing.
We went and double checked the pillow, all the blankets, and around the mattress. Nothing. So we sat together in her raging river of disappointment.
My husband came down a short time later, awoken no doubt by the inconsolable crying. As he also tried to console Sophie, a wordless conversation was mouthed between us.
I put the Toonie there last night??!!
There’s no Toonie in the pillow.
I swear to God, I put it there.
It’s not there.
I PUT IT THERE!
IT’S NOT THERE!
He and Sophie went up and searched the room again. A short-time later they emerged with the Toonie. They found it under the bed. We don’t have a theory how it got there.
Sophie soon was squealing with laughter and delight, through the tears. The Toonie, the Toonie!
(Uh, can I get my $20 back?).
The fourth tooth dropped recently, her second front one. It had been hanging there like Nanny McPhee for weeks.
That evening, we [barely] remembered. And what was the smallest bill we had on hand at 11:00 p.m.? Right, a $20 bill. It was either that or a handful of pennies and nickels. Or a cheque.
Way to learn and be prepared.
All in all, the tooth fairy situation has been one big parenting amateur hour over here. We’re, like, nine years into this parenting gig and still flailing around half the time.
But I guess with parenting it’s always amateur hour. It’s a labour of love. You don’t get paid. You have no clue what you’re doing. Things rarely go as planned.
Plus, there are hecklers.