My oldest daughter lost her 6th tooth last week amidst much fanfare and excitement about the tooth fairy making another nocturnal visit to our home. I can't say that I'm keen on the whole losing teeth thing. Frankly, it grosses me out and makes me a bit panicky, wondering if I have a loonie to scrounge out of my purse, or if I'm going to have to write another I.O.U for my younger daughter's piggy bank.
The second time she lost a tooth, we were still living in Castor and Mike was working here in the Hat, so I had only myself to rely on to remember to do the tooth/money swap. I guess I must be a bad mother, because I forgot. It was with great consternation that she came to me in the morning, demanding to know why she still had a tooth under her pillow and no money. I had only seconds to come up with a plausible story: the tooth fairy doesn't come if people are awake in the house, and I had stayed up all night reading, so the tooth fairy would have to come the next night. Disaster averted! The blame had been assigned to the guilty party and she had a story to tell and retell over the next few days, how mummy had sabotaged the tooth fairy's visit.
Well, it almost happened again. The problem is that by the time I go to bed, hours after my children, thoughts of the tooth fairy's responsibilities have been replaced with to-do lists, scheduling issues and fatigue. As I was laying there, almost asleep, I suddenly realized that I hadn't fulfilled my tooth fairy duties and bolted out of bed. Thankfully, there was a loonie in my purse!
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