The Tale of A Knuckle Sandwich and A Negligent Tooth Fairy

Yesterday morning when I was in my bathroom getting myself all primped and ready to go to the Crayola Factory, I heard a commotion downstairs.  Before I had time to put the wand back in my tube of mascara so I could go investigate, my 6-year-old daughter bounded into my bathroom and started explaining the situation.  Evidently, she and her 3-year-old sister were having a bit of an altercation that came to blows.  This is certainly not something we tolerate, and yet neither is it a particularly unusual occurrence.  It just so happened that when her sister hit her in the mouth, she knocked her tooth right out of her head.

Now, this tooth had been loose for weeks and was hanging on by a thread.  We had been threatening to yank it out in her sleep, so her sister didn’t have to hit her very hard to accomplish the task.  And C was so thrilled to have her tooth out that she assured me, “It’s okay that R hit me.  Don’t discipline her.  Really, it’s GOOD that she did!”

M’kay.  Let’s just say she doesn’t need any encouragement in this area of besetting sin.

I helped C put her tooth in a baggie, and she carefully placed it under her pillow for the Tooth Fairy, and we went on about our day.

This morning I was sitting here at my computer, drinking my coffee while C slept in.  She’s 6 going on 16, I swear.  When she awoke, she immediately looked under her pillow to find… nothing.  She appeared beside me with sleep-tousled hair and a tear-stained face, declaring tragically that she was SURE she left her tooth under her pillow, but there was NOTHING there, and the Tooth Fairy DIDN’T COME!

Quite truthfully, I was shocked that she took it all so seriously.  This is the kid who decided she doesn’t believe in Santa because “everybody knows that reindeer can’t fly.”

Well, I snapped to attention and told her to go back up and look again, that I was SURE it was there somewhere.  While she started up the stairs, I grabbed a handful of quarters out of my desk drawer and hurried to catch up with her.  When we got to her room, I stealthily slid the money under her pillow with one hand before picking it up with the other to reveal the elusive change.  Once again, mommy swoops in and saves the day.  She seemed convinced, although she confidently assured me that it hadn’t been there a few moments before.  Wouldn’t it be glorious if we mommies could always heal their heartbreak that easily?

As for the tooth, my guess is the slippery bag probably slid down behind the bed in her sleep.  I need to remember to go hunt it down before she discovers it.  And next time one of my kids loses a tooth, I better write the Tooth Fairy a note.