The Mystery of the Tooth Fairy

The tooth fairy.  I don't think I ever narrowed it down to what she looked like. She, yes, I believe she is a she.  Floating clothes, soundless movements, lots and lots of glitter.  Really, she's the only fairy I've really known, but never seen.  And who knows what she does with all of those teeth!  There's no way she would keep them.  Not my fairy.

Little Miss and her big brother entered into their own world of tooth fairy-ness a little over a year ago, and have since lost eight teeth each.  Although I have forgotten most of the details, Little Miss loves the story of how she lost her first tooth.  She will tell anyone who asks.

"It fell out when I bit my brother in the foot," as if that is a regular occurrence in anyone's house.  With her flaming red hair and fiery temper, none of us is surprised that she'd sink her teeth into any part of him.  I've seen it in slow motion at the kitchen table.  She's colouring; he steps in to tell her how it's done; she turns her head, leans forward, and chomps down on his right shoulder.  Normal behaviour, right?

Anyway, her tooth came out.  Do we reward her?  Of course!  Tooth fairies do not care how the tooth came out - they just want the tooth.  And the fact that we were miles away, camping in Quebec, was quite a feat for our friend, the fairy.  I think they had to send a young one.

We discovered so long as you keep the tooth in a sock, under the pillow, the tooth fairy will find it.

Several other teeth in our household have been yanked out, swallowed, or lost.  Although we encouraged the kids to send notes to the tooth fairy explaining the tooth-in-the-belly syndrome, or to watch the toilet for the next few days, the kids weren't interested and let the fairies off the hook.  According to six-year-olds; no tooth, no treats.  It just wasn't legitimate.

There was one morning our little man woke up to find a shiny coin and a box of candy under his pillow, only to see the exact same candy wrapper on the coffee table downstairs.  Mr. Man had suspiciously eaten the same candies that the tooth fairy had delivered the previous night.  I listened to what the kids had to say (after I ran upstairs and gave the him what for).

"Daddy had the same candy you have!" Little Miss had her wheels turning, "How'd that happen?  Should we ask him?"

Her brother was just happy to enjoy his treats and couldn't care less about his father's antics the night before.

"How does the tooth fairy even get the stuff here?" she enquired, eyeing up a few of his candies.

"Oh, some have the tooth fairy deliver it, and sometimes the parents do it," he answered. But he clearly was thinking of another house.  No big deal, was the impression I got.

So by the time Mr. came down to join the show, with his answers to possible candy questions, the two little ones had moved on to something else.

Earlier this week, while eating her loot from her eighth "loss," Little Miss asked me if God was in charge of the tooth fairy.

"Oh, I suppose.  He did make everything.  But I think he leaves her alone to do her job."  At least that's what my fairy would want.

"He should look after her though 'cause rides on a broom,"  she states as she munches away.

"And she looks kind of like a witch, " added her brother.

It could be because we've just come through halloween, but I think these two have a very different version of what their tooth fairy looks like than I did as a kid.  There is no way I would leave my tooth and invite a scary-looking being into my room just for quarters.

But at least in the battle between reality and make believe, they know Who's got a handle on it all.  Just like God calling Santa on the phone, they know He's got the safety of the tooth fairy on His mind, also.