Tooth Flairy

Yesterday marked a momentous occasion in our house.  Eli lost his first tooth (you probably thought I was going to say I cooked an edible meal, didn’t you?  No such luck).  After weeks and weeks of fiddling with it, if finally dangled loosely while he alternately jiggled and whined.  I told him I would be pulling it sometime during the day and he should be getting himself mentally prepared.  While he fake cried about this promise, I advised him that my mom used to sit on us and yank our teeth out when they were loose.  I would be happy to call in Grandma for back-up if he would prefer.  That quieted him.  He finally decided after dinner that he would allow me to pull his tooth since it was interfering with his ability to enjoy a good chicken nugget.  That baby just fell right out when I touched it.  I put it in a Ziploc bag and hoped the cats wouldn’t try to eat it. 

Recently more than one person has asked us about our stance on the Tooth Fairy, since it is well known that we poo-poo Santa and all his jolly ways.  To be honest, I don’t really even understand the myth behind the Tooth Fairy.  People just believe that a strange lady appears in your room, takes your tooth and leaves you with money?  Why would she want your old teeth?  What does she do with them?   Make a necklace out of them like Crocodile Dundee?  Since I would prefer that some crazy lady doesn't fly around with my children’s teeth strung about her neck, we decided to tell Eli that we would be taking his teeth and leaving him a fortune under his pillow (it was either that or tell him Fat Linda would carry it off in the night though her gifts would hardly be what you want to find anywhere around your bed).  As with Santa, we’ve advised him not to make the Tooth Fairy truth known to his friends; we’ll see if this one is as successful as the Santa debacle has been. 

So when it was time for bed, Eli dutifully placed his Ziploc bagged tooth under his pillow and sweetly dreamed of gum disease.  Meanwhile, I was downstairs rummaging through my wallet.  It turns out I had no single dollar bills.  I wasn’t about to put a $20 under that pillow (I’m rich, b!) and set a precedence I couldn’t maintain.  Since Mark had no dollars either, I had to do something despicable.  I grabbed a dollar that already belonged to Eli (he earned it by changing the oil in my car and unclogging the gutters) and stuffed it in another Ziploc bag.  Since I felt I should contribute some of our own money as well, I grabbed a handful of change from my own wallet.  I counted it up and saw I had $0.66, which I felt was a bad number, so I added another $0.11 for a grand total of $1.77 under Eli’s pillow (Grandma thought this was a bit much for a first tooth but I told her we like to flaunt our money).

I took his bag-o-money and tip-toed into his bedroom.  He was moving around in his sleep and rolled right toward me while I tried to extract the tooth bag.  I thought I was busted so I hit the deck.  In the process, I knocked a bunch of stuff off of his night stand and nearly dislocated three limbs.  Finally, I was able to agilely slip the moneybag under the pillow without jangling the change too much.  Take that, Tooth Fairy! 

This morning, Eli was so excited to find his treasure.  He wanted me to get his other dollar to add this new one to it.  Mark and I shared a guilty expression and told him we didn’t have time for such foolishness but would be happy to help after school.  Meanwhile, I’m about to go buy a Twinkie in order to break my big bill (oh the sacrifices we make for our loved ones).  I wonder if the Tooth Fairy will visit me when all my teeth fall out.  I could use some extra cash – some that I haven’t stolen from my children.  

Here's a picture of ole Gap Tooth.