I promise to quit acting like my kid was the first in the history of the world to lose a tooth right . . . about . . . NOW.
You guys, it sucks harder than a Dyson when your kid is the VERY LAST KID in her kindergarten class to lose a tooth. I know she was the VERY LAST KID because every day for the past several weeks I've been told, "Mom, I'm the VERY LAST KID to lose a tooth. Waaaah!" The "Waaaah" may not have actually been included in her statement, but it was implied. Loudly. And with a sigh.
So. Here's the thing. In my head, the Tooth Fairy is kind of a cheap bastard. I haven't figured out what she wants all of those teeth for in the first place, but since so many kids are perfectly willing to let her have them, the price is pretty low. Supply and demand, you know? I was thinking $1 for the first tooth and then I was planning to start stealing quarters from the kid's piggy bank for any subsequent teeth.
The kid is spoiled, for the record. She is spoiled MIGHTILY...by ME. The Tooth Fairy doesn't need to take credit for spoiling given all that the kid manages to score.
But it turns out that there are plenty of parents who are perfectly willing to let the Tooth Fairy seem like Donald Trump after a drunken night hanging out with Mother Theresa. They are throwing cash at kids like WOAH. Alexis cheerfully reported that one kid got $10 for his tooth. I heard about how another got $5 plus a toy.
And then there is my personal favorite. One of Alexis' friends got a diary.
That may not sound like much, but THAT was the Tooth Fairy offering that Alexis clung to the most. Never mind the fact that the kid has something like ten diaries, she was absolutely convinced that the Tooth Fairy was going to deliver yet another one.
The Tooth Fairy didn't realize just how serious the kid was about the diary thing. WHOOPS.
Remember how Alexis sleeps in a loft? That is five feet up in the air? Yeah. It turns out that the ladder for that loft squeaks when grown-ups try to climb it, so there was no way for the Tooth Fairy to gracefully deliver anything. Instead, she balanced precariously on a tiny little footstool as she groped in the dark for a pillow to shove some cash under, risking life and limb because there is no telling what the kid has stashed up there. I wouldn't be entirely surprised if she is training a herd of rabid hamsters to attack anyone who approaches the loft. They could survive on stuffed animal innards, Kleenex and that mysterious goo that all kids seem to have on their hands.
Despite all that was required for the Tooth Fairy to make the delivery, Alexis woke up and was nothing short of shattered. There was no diary! Just $5! Waaaaaah! WAAAAH! WAAAAAAH!
I'm not exaggerating at all when I say Alexis sobbed for a solid ten minutes because the Tooth Fairy had the nerve to skip town without leaving a diary behind. It just so happened that we were headed to Cleveland to go to the I-X Center Indoor Amusement Park that day or she would probably STILL be sitting in the corner sobbing quietly to herself. Fortunately, she was distracted by shiny things like roller coasters and pink inflatable dolphins.
Could we please pass a law that says the Tooth Fairy is only allowed to deliver cash? Preferably something that can be covered with a coin or two?
