Remember I told you a couple weeks ago about how bad I am at being the Tooth Fairy? And how my nine-year-old still unquestioningly believes in her contrary to all logic?
Well the other day my six-year-old daughter joined in. She’s lost a handful of teeth already.
The last three were all in one horrible,
gruesome,
damage-left-over-from-tooth-injury-when-she-was-three,
middle of the night,
multi-tooth
extraction.
It was horrifying. Like a dental horror movie.
Imagine lots of blood and one big psychopath tooth coming in behind the nice sweet baby teeth, twisting them sideways—actually sideways, you understand— and leaving them dangling, still clinging for dear life to the gums with the strongest gum-attachment ever found in a tiny girl’s mouth.
Then add in a lot more blood.
I think at one point a tooth was crying.
Or maybe that was me.
ANYWAY, my daughters’s been a little leery of the whole losing-teeth thing since then.
So the other day she took a break from watching snowflakes fall to ask, “Mom, how on EARTH does the tooth fairy not FREEZE TO DEATH on cold nights when she has to go do the teeth thing?”
credit: Kristina Alexanderson
To which I answered, “Really, of all the questions that the tooth fairy raises, I would think that particular one is way down the list.”
She thought a moment then said, “Hmm. You’re right. The tooth fairy is kind of crazy.”
Then she squinted at me. “Are YOU the tooth fairy?”
And I panicked, because WHO CAN HANDLE THAT LEVEL OF INTERROGATION?
“Me?” I didn’t make eye contact. “Hmm. What do you think?” ‘Cause that’s not suspicious or anything.
And she shared a little secret smile with me and whispered, “I think you are.”
This was it! The long con was over! Motormouth was about to turn around and announce to her brothers what she had just discovered. Was I relieved? Stressed? A little sad?
I still don’t know because at that moment fate intervened and Daddy drove into the driveway. In the daily chaos of greeting that ensued the tooth fairy was forgotten.
But now I’m in limbo. She knows. But will she remember to tell them?
What am I supposed to do? Just pretend she never asked? Because that’s my current plan.
Anyone have any ingenious ideas?
LOL. Just saw this. No, no ideas. I’m VERY bad at this stuff.
Case in point: my 5-year-old told me a few days ago that he wants to go for a walk outside with me so we can “find a spider.” What on earth for? “So I can make him mad.” !!! Why do you want to make a spider mad? “If I make him mad he will bite me, and then I can shoot webs like Spider Man.”
Now, I’m thinking.. what do I say? I don’t want to burst his little bubble, but I also don’t want him baiting random spiders that could be poisonous. We won’t find a spider in December anyway… I can just put this off until spring, right? Maybe he will have forgotten all about it by then. Next question: “How do you make a spider mad, Mom? Maybe I can hide his remote. That’s how to make Daddy mad.”
“Spiders don’t have remotes.” That’s the best I’ve got in the midst of my giggles. Seriously. That’s it.
His 16-year-old brother was no help either. “Spider webs? You don’t want that superpower, dude. Real spiders shoot webs from their butt.” Giggling and typical juvenile male conversation followed, including how they could make a more realistic Spider Man movie, and what the spandex suit might look like if it were constructed to allow for webs to come from the “right” place.
I was called upon to confirm that spider silk does indeed come from the posterior region of the spider. But because I couldn’t say it with a straight face, I was not believed. I’m certain the superhero delusion persists, but no idea what to do about it. Still tempted to wait until spring.
Utterly useless at this…
Kathryn, that is hilarious!