Wednesday, 19 November 2014
Being the Tooth Fairy
We are getting familiar with the tooth fairy here.
Coco has lost three teeth so far - although the tooth fairy has only visited twice; the second tooth was lost in a suspected swallowing incident at another child's birthday party. I suggested to Coco that she wrote a note to the tooth fairy explaining the situation, but she never got around to it. I wasn't going to push it.
I find the deceptiveness of this fairy-lady (like her colleague Father Christmas) quite annoying. On the one hand I don't want to be a boring, practical and say-it-how-it-is parent, but on the other I don't want to be actively deceiving my children, making them believe in something that doesn't exist and basically lying to them. Especially in the face of direct questioning.
I think Coco, at nearly seven, understands this - she actually doesn't often ask direct questions and smiles at me (in what I choose to interperet as a bit of a knowing way) when I throw the question back at her with a "Well, how do you think the tooth fairy knows to come and look under your pillow today?"
The whole process gets more disturbing when I have to find cash and creep into her room late at night. Is it a bit wrong that I feel a slight thrill that I might be caught out being the tooth fairy? There's not a chance, our girl really does slumber very well, yet still I have this frisson - a feeling that makes me vaguely giddy and takes me back to some unmentionable moments from my past. I don't breath as I sneak the tooth out from under her pillow, only allowing myself to inhale again once I'm back on the other side of her bedroom door. Then I find myself standing holding a tooth. Coco was kind enough to put the last one in a bag - not for her squeamish mother of course, but I still appreciated it... But I stand there... "what should I do with it?" I can't have it discovered. Even though I don't think she believes and I don't want to lie.
I stuffed the bagged one in a pot high up on some shelves, but it's not a good hiding place. I need a better one (and it's dangerously close to her letter to Father Christmas from last year come to think of it). Maybe I should booby-trap the whole zone. I remember discovering a slightly gruesome little mother-of-pearl pot of baby teeth on my mothers dressing table once, like little relics to childhood. Little did I know at the time how much angst baby-teeth cause parents, both on their arrival and their departure.
And as for the going rate for a tooth? I think I went in way too high with a nice round shiny pound coin. I got a bit over-excited, but I've made my bed... or maybe when she gets 10p next time I could just shrug my shoulders, it's not my fault; it's up to the Tooth Fairy (she's capitalised now). Although, there have already been a few statements thrown around about the tooth fairies favoritism - she obviously rather likes one of Coco's school friends who got a whole list of gifts.
I need to be more sensible about it all. More considered and definitely a bit more grown up.
A good start would be to actually BOOK THAT DENTIST APPOINTMENT for her which I've been meaning to do for ages.
Why is it that I put off the simplest of tasks? Especially in this modern internet age where you can simply to a website like Toothpick and just click on a button and it's done.
Then the only thing I have left to do bribe Coco into brushing her teeth a little more thoroughly and eat a few less sticky things.
Maybe I'll tell her the Tooth Fairy won't visit again if she doesn't. That will work.
Toothpick kindly sponsored me to write this post - all thoughts are my own.