Posts Tagged ‘Tooth Fairy’

The one with the reverse ransom.

September 3, 2014

Guest blog by my sister Kim.

So. NORMALLY, I get home from visiting my fantastic, hilarious, maniacal older sister and realize I’ve left behind my favorite necklace or a single, beloved sock. This year? I come home and find a bloody tooth on my bureau. At least it was in a Ziploc bag?


P.S.: This tooth fairy doesn’t send funds long distance. Nope. She’s more the ransom note type of fairy than the glitter and dollar bills sort. Mwah ha ha.


Good thing I have pointe shoes. (Um, not really.)

May 22, 2014

Bee-girl likes to keep me on my toes. I forget this from time to time, and then she likes to remind me in spectacular fashion. Like last week.

Gracie lost a tooth. I thought she should be well past the age of losing such things, but apparently there are molars and such that still need to come out. (What can I say – I was 10 a long, long time ago and most of the baby teeth I had left around that age were removed surgically when I had braces put on. Teeth issues: I had them all.) So the tooth that Gracie kept telling me was wiggly eventually fell out. And by “eventually fell out” I mean she decided as we were sitting down to a nice roast beef dinner on Mother’s Day that she should pull it out.


Fast-forward to the next morning. I realize that I never remembered to slip money (or, um, the tooth) under Gracie’s pillow. Amazing how unmotivated you are to remember such things when the secret’s out, right? So I stashed the tooth before the girls got up and discreetly told Gracie that I had just put the money in her wallet.

Except Bee girl pipes up with, “Hey! We forgot to put Gracie’s tooth under her pillow!” I shot Gracie A Look that she must have received A-OK because she quickly answered that we had put the tooth under it and she already pulled out her money. “Oh,” Bee answered, clearly disappointed. Apparently she had stayed awake for most of the night, trying to catch the Tooth Fairy in action.

That night, as I read to the girls from Harry Potter, Bee was busy writing her note. I know it started “Dear Tooth Fairy,” because she made me spell it for her. But the rest of the note? No luck. That sucker was taped shut. Bee put the note on the kitchen island, and then put out a full glass of milk and some cookies. Tooth Fairy bait! She gleefully told me what she had done, and wondered if she would get money. Because that’s what happened on Full House, don’tcha know.

I waited til the cutie was fast asleep and then did the only thing I could do: I read the note and left one in its place.

It says “Hi Tooth Fairy, It’s me, Bee-girl. How do you be so quiet at nite? P.S. Are fairys real? Please write back. Love Bee-girl. You can call me BB, Bee.”

I put the note somewhere safe, and then I left a dollar folded up after summoning junior high note-folding skills I didn’t even know I still had. And then I left my own note. AND COVERED IT WITH GLITTER WHICH PROVES BEYOND A DOUBT HOW MUCH I LOVE THAT KID.


“Bee, Those are Fairy secrets. Shhh…it’s magic! Love, T.F.”

The next morning, Bee-girl was in a bit of A Mood. She whined and stomped her way through getting dressed, eating, and brushing her teeth. I may have mentioned hurrying with her hair so she could see what was on the table for her. And then she did see and she DIED from happiness.

It’s going to kill that kid when she finds out the real secret of the Tooth Fairy. But until then, I plan on having as much fun with it as I can!

The Thanta Bwiefing.

February 5, 2013

For those of you who weren’t blessed with my pitiful little hyperventilating self yesterday, yesterday was A Day. The morning started out quite normal; we were all bustling around getting ready for school and for work, when all of a sudden, Gracie bit down the wrong way on a piece of cereal, yelled, and then declared that she was pretty sure she could pull her tooth out. And then she did. Normal so far, yes? Except then it happened…

After biting down on a paper towel to stop the bleeding, Gracie says, “Mom, I think the tooth fairy should give me some extra money. Since I pulled the tooth myself.”

Oh ho ho ho – the words sounded innocent enough, but I looked up at my darling little eight-year-old because those words sounded awfully full of knowing. I looked right at her, Gracie looked right at me, and damnit to the mothership if her eyes were sparkling with mischief. Did she know? She must! Wait…did she? Was she in on the Tooth Fairy Conspiracy? She had asked very leading questions about Santa the past two Christmases, but since her sister had been around each time, so there wasn’t a chance for me to confirm her suspicions. The only option I had was to heap shovels full o’ magic and believing on top of her and cross my fingers. I thought it worked…but did it?

I sent the kids off to school and then, yeah, I started breathing into a paper bag. The Ex agreed. I was going to have to do it. I was going to have The Talk with Gracie about who exactly was behind all that magic. And then her childhood would be over and she might hate me and my heart would break into a million pieces. And how was your Monday?

One of my co-workers tried reassuring me: didn’t I remember when I knew, but didn’t want to know, and didn’t want to let on that I knew so I could keep the presents coming? NOOOOO!, I told him! I never suspsected! I was the gullible kid who kept right on believing, until my mom had to break it to me sometime after Christmas in third grade, and before fourth grade. I remember bawling, sitting there on my bed. I felt so betrayed by my mom, and so sad that there was no such thing as magic. I think having the magic ripped away was even worse than feeling betrayed.

You can see why I was little worried. Kim told me she thought Gracie would be fine. Gracie loves being in on secrets, and feeling like a grown-up – what better set up for that is there?! She could help me wrap Bee’s presents and feel like she’s in on alllll the secrets. Massive power trips always make her feel better. Ah, but I know my Gracie, and she’s also prone to dramatics. Her heartbreak could be epic. This could have gone down either way.

Which is why, last night when her sister was in the bath, I handed the kiddo a soda to try to buy me some goodwill. “Gracie, I have to talk to you about something.”
“When you said you thought you should get extra money for pulling your own tooth…did you believe that? Do you really believe in the tooth fairy?” I allowed a note of incredulousness into my voice, trying to lead her to the right answer.
“Absolutely!” she fervently agreed. “Who else could find Bee’s tooth when she lost it outside and put it back under her pillow?”


I changed tactics. “You don’t believe that Steggy – your sister’s dinosaur is real, do you?”
“No. I just say I do so she won’t be afraid. There aren’t dinosaurs outside, Mom. And they’re not nocturnal.”
“Right. Because that isn’t logical. It doesn’t make any sense. We just pretend so she’ll feel good and so she’ll believe in magic, and because it’s a little fun Like tooth fairies.”

I had to spell the whole dang thing out for her. And, um, whoops – she really didn’t have any idea. I explained the tooth fairy – and assured her that she would still get money, that nothing would change even after her sister had outgrown it. Then I had to explain that meant Santa too. I thought Gracie would break down then – she looked absolutely devastated. But she rallied when she remembered that she had even said that Santa’s handwriting looked like mine. Bless her little codebreaking heart. She connected the dots to the Easter Bunny on her own. And then she did panic.

“What about God, Mom?”

Rather than give her a complete existential crisis (hey, an 8-year-old can only take so much), I said simply, “God is real. Well, God is still the same.” She can grapple with this is-he-or-isn’t-he when she’s a little more equipped to figure out her own answer. But it made me giggle a little later that one of her first reactions was to think that the entire religious sector was in on pulling a fast. I mean, I guess that made as much sense as learning that parents were playing Santa.

After that, she was completely okay. As in, unfazed. As in, really, not a single tear shed. The complete opposite of where I thought the night was going. “Are you okay? Really? You’re fine?” I asked her more than once. I told her about when I found out so she’d feel like she had “permission” to lose it a little, if she wanted. Then I played up the whole top secret nature of the Santa conspiracy. She was NOT to tell her sister – she could help me play Santa, but she wasn’t to say anything. She could NOT tell her friends. Most of them probably didn’t know, and even asking if they believed might be the thing that made them not believe any more, and that wasn’t fair. She could talk to any grown-up about it as long as she made sure it was in private, so little kids didn’t accidentally overhear anything. And, most of all, she was NOT to overdo it around her sister or anyone. “You’re a horrible liar, Gracie,” I told her. And it’s true: if she’s lying for someone else, if there isn’t any self-preservation involved, the kid couldn’t lie to save her life. Lying to me about brushing her teeth, though, sometimes she can get away with it.

Gracie laughed, knowing how true my statement was, and agreed to all of the club rules. That was it. In the blink of an eye, my kiddo wasn’t a little kid anymore. In real life. She was cool with it. We didn’t even need to make an emergency phone call to Auntie Kim, who, anticipating her ability to talk out loud after a root canal, starting practicing saying, “Thanta ith weal in thpirit, Gwacie.” But all the practice was in vain – Gracie, it turns out, is more ready to grow up than any of the grown-ups in her life are. Which is just as it should be.

Stories of the terrifically toothless.

January 30, 2012

Bee came home from her dad’s with another front tooth missing – finally. That other bottom tooth has been hanging on by the skinniest of threads for the longest time. It was 10-to-1 and pick’ em whether the tooth was even going to be facing frontwards when Bee smiled that goofy smile at you. So I wasn’t surprised is what I’m saying.


(There’s always a “but…” in my life these days, isn’t there?)

There was more the story. Much more. See, what happened was this: Bee and Gracie were outside playing and taking pictures with Dad and Stepmom. Bee was tumbling down the hill and when her dad stopped her (ahem) downhill progress, the tooth was missing. I imagine there were tears – buckets of them – because Bee said they used flashlights and searched the grass for a long time but could not find the tooth.

“Did the tooth fairy come anyway?” I asked, expecting an exuberant “YES!” and stories of magic and how-did-she-knows to follow.

“No,” came the most pitiful response I have ever heard. She and everyone else forgot or something. There was a sleepover and a bunch of other details that I didn’t quite follow, but the bottom line was that I had Bee, no tooth, and the dire need for the Tooth Fairy. No problemo – Mom’s pretty tight with the Tooth Fairy.

I esplained to Bee that now she’s just one story ahead – everyone has a “missing tooth” story and now she already has hers. And at only 5 years old, too! I told her that when I was younger, I was sitting outside under the canopy having lunch with my family at the picnic table. My mom had made corn-on-the-cob to go with what must have been burgers and hotdogs, and as I was munching on that yummy, nummy buttered corn, my tooth came out. And I accidentally swallowed it. Bee was tickled. Gracie whined that she didn’t have one, and I think that only made Bee feel better.

Buoyed by our stories, Bee was ready to pen her note to the Tooth Fairy. She dictated most of it to me: “Dear Tooth Fairy. I lost my tooth. I was at the park and I was rolling down the hill and then my dad smashed me and I felt the tooth come out on the grass. I couldn’t find it.” Smashed – true story. And Mama didn’t even giggle. (Out loud.) She signed it and stuck it in her pillow case.

And that’s where Superhero Mama comes in, because the Tooth Fairy left her this:

It says, “It’s okay – I found it! Leave it for me tomorrow night. xx<3 <3, the Tooth Fairy.” And if you notice, there’s a tiny little tooth wrapped up in that tulle that’s attached with a pink ribbon.

Which brings me to the moral of my story: For all those moms out there wondering, THAT is why we keep their baby teeth. For emergency substitutions.

Bee was too tired and grouchy (and feeling dollar-less) to make much of the magic involved in getting her flippin’ tooth back, but Gracie’s eyes were pretty wide. I imagine there will be smiles and wonderment tonight when we come home and she rediscovers it. At least there better be – I went to a lot of trouble writing in cursive so certain other daughters wouldn’t notice the handwriting was scarily similar.

Guess what happened two days before Christmas?

January 6, 2012

Good thing the Tooth Fairy’s been keeping emergency cash on hand. Nothing hurts worse than only having a $20 in situations such as these.

Bee’s favorite part? Gracie didn’t lose her first until well into 1st grade. Ah, sibling rivalry: how you beat me about the head.

Of course it did.

October 10, 2009

This is Gracie.


“Cheese!” she says.

This is Gracie on Friday afternoon.


Or, I’m guessing that’s how she looks. Because her tooth fell out during snack at school (despite my “stay stuck” vibes), and then she went straight from school to her dad’s house for the weekend.

The universe hates me.

C’mon and wiggle it, just a little bit…

October 3, 2009

Gracie’s bottom two teeth are wiggly. Really wiggly. The one on the left? It has almost reached the apex of wiggliness, the marker by which you just know it has to fall out soon: you can almost make it lie down. Wanna know how I know? Because I have been wiggling it and testing it almost as often as Gracie has. I even tried just lifting it out. (Don’t know what exactly I thought would happen: a little resistance and then some slurpy suction, and then whoosh, a tooth?)

Obviously, I am very excited. Gracie spends her time switching between just as excited and freaking the heck out. I can see why: your tooth, which is attached to your mouth, is just going to come out? That has got to hurt, she is thinking. I can tell from the teeny tiny look of panic there in the back of her eyes. It sits right next to the accusation that says, Exactly why are you excited about this, Mom?! But then… then my darling, entrepreneuring daughter thinks about the money that will result from a lost tooth. And she is really, very excited about the prospect of a dollar. That side of her came with the exciting plan of eating food all weekend that could possibly make her tooth fall out: apples, corn on the cob, caramels. (Okay, I might have helped with the list. Hey, what are the odds I could find a caramel apple already made?)

Yes, Gracie must be my wee little daughter, because planning helps her feel better about things, makes her feel more in control. She likes to recite back to me exactly what will happen. “I will lose a tooth, Mommy, and then what will happen?” She doesn’t even wait for an answer. “The Tooth Fairy will come and she will give me MONEY.” That Gracie can relate the Tooth Fairy’s eventual arrival without fear is a minor accomplishment. At first, she was having none of it. Someone was breaking into the house and sneaking into her room in the dead of night? No way, Jose. So I equated the Tooth Fairy to Santa Claus. She was still wary, so she asked what exactly this Tooth Fairy chick looked like. “Umm…like Tinkerbell! She’s a fairy, isn’t she?” That satisfied her. (Thank god.) And all was well and good.

Until yesterday when we were going over it for the 1,000th time and Gracie told me she would put the tooth under the pillow and then Peter Pan was going to leave her money. Yeah. I laughed (on the inside, people, on the inside), but now I want the whole thing to be over pretty soon because the idea of Peter Pan flying around my house is kinda freaking me out.

By my count, you totally owe me.

September 8, 2009

Star light, star bright,
First star I see tonight,
I wish I may, I wish I might
have this wish I wish tonight.

Please let Gracie’s two little wiggly teeth fall out at my house. Or at least the first one. (Hey, after Throw-up-palooza I totally deserve it.)