Our tooth fairy hasn’t always been reliable, but, for about two years now, tooth fairy fails have been a thing of the past.
These days our fairy never forgets to come. It took a seemingly near fatal fairy incident to get my/her ass in gear, though. It was an emotional event for all but we now have a simple system in place because of it. And this simple system ensures that a loonie (or sometimes a toonie , if I’m feeling generous) gets where it needs to go. Every. Damn. Time.
The “seemingly near fatal fairy incident” happened early one fall morning. It started with a sad little girl standing next to my bed in utter dismay. My middle daughter had gone to bed feeling hopeful and excited, having lost her second tooth. Sadly, she woke up to discover her tooth still there, under her pillow and not a loonie in sight.
The scene played out, like this:
“She didn’t come, Mom. She didn’t come…” she said.
My heart sank and my eyes bolted open. (Turns out guilt works even better than coffee!)
“I’m sure she came! Go and look again, honey, and I’ll be right there!” Off she went to look, buying me mere seconds from which to locate some cash. I fumbled my way through the nightstand drawer but… nothing! Nothing useful, except a bottle of purple glitter glue. (Why was that in there?)
Armed with the glue, and an almost-plan, I zoomed off to save my (and the tooth fairy’s) butt.
“Let me have a look,” I said lifting her pillow, and squeezing out some sneaky glitter glue all in one motion.
“Wha… what’s this?” I asked, pointing to the gooey smear on her pillow case. “Could that be fairy dust? Did the fairy get stuck under your pillow, perhaps?” My eyes were wide with forced awe. My skeptical daughter investigated, her little face looking even more upset.
“But… it looks like guts, Mom. Did you think I squashed the tooth fairy?” she asked.
“NO! No way. That’ s not guts that just fairy dust! I’m sure she squeezed her way out and flew away. She just didn’t get a chance to leave any money. Maybe you almost saw her and she had to do a quick getaway?”
“Maybe,” she said.
Confused and not sure what to make of it all, she walked with me and her sisters downstairs for breakfast.
The guilt had worked better than coffee on the eyes but not quite as well on the brain power. I gave myself a mental kick in the butt and vowed to make this right!
Later that night, the tooth fairy came. This time she left two dollars and a long note explaining how she’d gotten jammed between the pillow and the bed but was able to squeeze herself out only to discover that the sun was up. She’d panicked (worried that she might be seen) and forgot to leave the money. She also added that she was absolutely fine, not hurt at all. And, just like that, all was well in the fairy world once more.
Now whenever one of our girls loses a tooth, I have a simple system in place to remind me not to forget. At the moment of tooth loss, I immediately go to my own room and I take that glitter glue out of the nightstand. I put the little tube on my own pillow as a reminder that I have one last task to do, before bed.
Worryingly, I’m often surprised to find the glue there. Also, and somewhat more concerning, my daughter now has a friend whose tooth fairy leaves her $100.00 per tooth! Our tooth fairy may be reliable these days but she looks like a total cheapskate.
My kid is, of course, aiming to lose her next tooth over at her pal’s place. After all, wouldn’t you?