Well, it’s that time again: time to be the mother-freakin’ tooth fairy. I hope I’m not alone here. Every time Ruth has a loose tooth, I start buggin’. Because guess what? You may not know this but there is no freakin’ tooth fairy. Or scratch that, it’s me. Which sounds like an honor and stuff until she gets another wiggly tooth and then I’m feeling like a major lame wad because, call me your typical millennial parent, but I don’t want to just wad up a dollar like my parents did (what can you even buy any more for a dollar besides a bunch of candy which is exactly what she would want to spend it on, believe me) and shove it under her pillow. Besides, I never carry cash. Plus when I sat down to think about it (this is purely figurative language. I never have time to give serious thought to the home I want to buy, much less how I want to proceed with my tooth fairy duties) I thought that paying cash for baby teeth must be the most capitalist idea of my life. So, thought I in my brilliance, why not make the gift from the fairy of teeth something a little more meaningful?
That’s all well and good except not only am I ten steps behind at all times but I am also a procrastinator to boot so even when she has a loose tooth, I bide my time. I put it off. I tell myself I have loads of days to think of something to leave beneath her pillow. And some of those teeth do hang on for an incredibly long time. But it always ends the same. You’d think by the fourth tooth I would have gotten my act together by now. Yet here I find myself again, scrambling to beat her awake and frantically looking for SOMEthing to stuff under her pillow before she wakes up.
I fell asleep last night tying to stay awake longer than her because she sleeps like a rock at night but it didn’t work and before long, I was in snoresville, having dream after dream about rushing to put something under her pillow before she woke up. Then, this morning, Miles woke up for his morning feed and though I could definitely have slept at least an hour more after a very unrestful and sleep-deprived weekend, I yanked myself up out of the bed and found myself scrambling as usual in the early morning light to not make so much noise as to wake her while simultaneously looking for something suitable all with a fussy baby on my hip (of a healthy weight a.k.a. ouch, my back). This is all pre-coffee mind you. There were some muttered swear words. There was some brow sweat as I slowly pushed the stuff under her pillow as her eyelids fluttered (this is all while Miles was still balanced on my hip with his pee soaked bulging diaper threatening to burst like a damn. But, whew. I did it.
Our tooth fairy must be Canadian, because he/she always leaves Canadian money, which is cool because we have taken vacations to Canada and is also very convenient because candy stores do not accept foreign currency (mwahaha:). After we got home from vacation, the fairy left some shells (that looked remarkably like the ones we collected on the beach and brought home with us. meh). After that, the fairy seemed to run short on ideas and was leaving strange things like stationary and pinecones. But this time the fairy was really desperate and stuffed a bunch of felt and a huge skein of yarn under there (I know because I saw it). Gee, thanks a bunch, fairy, now Ruth is going to expect me to figure out what to do with all of it today.
The things one does to provide some childhood magic and wonder.