The Tooth Fairy
Angel comes barging into my room at the crack of dawn this morning:"Mama, I've lost another tooth! I've lost ANOTHER TOOTH!"
She screams this into my left ear; I'm lying under the covers with my head just sticking out.
I mumble something like, "Great" or "Ok" or "nuther 5 minutes pleash".
I"ve had a bad night; I was tossing and turning, then finallly got up to work. Paperwork, you know, the adminsitrative stuff. The kind of sutff we all hate doing but we all have to do.
So instead of stressing about it, I just got up and did it.
I went back to bed afterwards, but in a way I shouldn't have; going back to sleep, I woke a couple of hours later with my throat burned and just feeling pretty weird, that way you do, when you know you've slept too much and too deeply at the wrong hours.
So, I grudgingly stumble out of bed; and there she is, waiting, expectant.
"Do you want me to call the Tooth Fairy?"
She starts jumping up and down, screaming, "YES!!! YES!!!!"
I surreptitiously call her father.
Clearing my throat, "Hello? Is this the Tooth Fairy?"
Silence. "Uh. No. This is her.....personal assistant."
I look at Angel. She's standing right next to me. She is feeing the space in her gum left by the tooth. She smiles proudly and waves the tooth at me. She can hear that the voice is male; no way could that be the Tooth Fairy.
"Uh-huh. RIght. Well. I've got...um....too much work to do this weekend.....um...I was wondering if the Tooth Fairy would be able to come by tonight. Angel has lost a tooth."
Thinking. "Yes, well, no actually. I've got....I mean, the TOOTH FAIRY has got too much work too; and besides, it's the weekend, so maybe...she needs a break?"
Angel looks at me. I look at her. I'm not sure what to do, but I'm pretty good at improvising. So is her Dad.
Well, yes, of course, I understand, the TOOTH FAIRY has soooo much work all week, flying around, collecting teeth, giving out presents, sure, it's the weekend, and she's in the Bahamas drinking cocktails. I understand. We all need to take time out on the weekend."
Angel nods; she's thinking about this too. I can see her with visions of a fairy, complete with wings, wand and sparkly dress, suntanning by a pool with a huge cocktail and a little umbrella inside of it in one hand, in the other, a cigarette.
"What, um, what would Angel like for her tooth?"
Bad question I'm thinking; I mean, she's going to be losing a lot of teeth yet. These little baby teeth are going to cost us a fortune here.
"Well, how about a nice book that she can..."
Jumping up and down again, "A BARBIE!!! A BARBIE!!! I WANNA BARBIE!!! AND A WINNIE THE POOH BOOK!!! AND POKEMON CARDS!!!!"
I look at her narrowly.
"Whoa, just hold on there sweetie, first of all, the Tooth Fairy only has one little bag. Secondly, don't you think all of that is a little too much for just one little baby tooth?"
She looks at her tooth. She opens her mouth to me.
"I have another tooth that's going to fall out too soon."
I sigh. "You've got 9 Barbies. 145 Pokemon cards. How about just the book?"
She pouts, sticking out her mouth and furrows her eyebrows. She puts her hands on her hips. She pouts just like her father.
Me, when I'm angry, I just yell.
It's a stand-off; she's in front of me with her I-WANT-IT-ALL-AND-I-WANT-IT-NOW stance, I'm in GO-AHEAD-AND-GIVE-ME-YOUR-BEST-I'M-YOUR-MOTHER-HELLO!-I'M-USED-TO-THIS position.
Finally, she gives in.
"Okeee....just the book."
"Tell the Tooth Fairy the book will be just fine."
"But a book with illustrations."
I laugh. Last negotiation.
"A book with nice drawings. Is that manageable?"
He's laughging too.
"Tough customer. Yeah, yeah, that's fine. I'll go and get it...I mean, THE TOOTH FAIRY will go and get it on Monday."
"Perfect."
I hang up.
"So, what did Papa say?"
"No, it wasn't your Dad, it was the Tooth Fairy's...secretary."
"YEAH RIGHT."
"How do you know it was him?"
She rolls her eyes dramatically; "DUH. Like I recognize his voice Mama."
"Oh. Right."
I'm walking towards the kitchen for some help in the form of a huge cup of coffee.
"Besides....is Papa going to call the Tooth Fairy?"
I look at her; I'm opening up the coffee grains. Ah, that scent. I swear, there isn't very much on this earth that smells quite as good, as reassuring, as calming, as wonderful as fresh coffee.
I nod, "Yup. He sure is."
"But how do you know the number? You called the Tooth Fairy once, and I spoke to her. How come you and Papa know her number?"
This was an incident a few months ago. It was July, and she was crying and wanted to speak to the Tooth Fairy. Angel had a complaint to make. The night before, in exchange for a lost tooth, all she found was a 10 Euro note. NOT what she wanted. She wanted the new Beach Babe Bikini Barbie complete with sunglasses.
So, on the spur of the moment (and I had work to do, so I needed a quick solution), I called a good friend of mine AG who is also an actress. I knew that if anyone, with her acting experience, she'd be able to switch register immediately and get into character.
She did; and they spoke at length, with Angel complaining and justifying why she'd rather have the Barbie than the cold hard cash; "You know, I'm just a child, so I'd rather have the Barbie than putting the money into a bank account. I just want the Barbie..." and my friend going, "Well, you know if you keep all the cash you get you'll be able to buy yourself a Barbie...."
Finally, the deal was settled with AG promising a Barbie one way or another and Angel wishing for the next tooth to fall out.
And so today she asks me again, "How do you know her number?"
...."Well, it's like Harry Potter."
"Huh? Like someone with a scar on his forehead and wears glasses?"
"No, magic. MAGIC. We parents, we have this...magic number we dial and we can contact the Tooth Fairy..."
She's thinking about this.
"But Harry Potter's just a film. It's make-believe."
What can I say? I love these little baby things that she still believes in. They will be gone soon; Father Christmas, the Tooth Fairy, all these things she will learn very soon that they don't exist. Accuse me of being a bad mother, but these moments are so endearing to me. They are, to me, the proof that she is still a baby, MY baby, and also the sign that my baby will be growing up very fast.
Perhaps too, a certain atonement on my part. I never believed in these things; I found them to be pretty dumb and childish, even when I was a child myself. In a way, I was never naive like that, although, perhaps I wish I had been. I remember too, my little sister catching me one night replacing one of her lost teeth with a bag of sweets; she cried and cried that the Tooth Fairy wasn't real and it was me all the time. I felt terrible, like I was taking away a part of her innocence.
And so, this little bit of innocence, I'd like Angel to keep.
Angel smiles at me. She gives me a huge hug. I hug her back, holding her so very tight, I breathe in the scent of her hair; the coconut oil I brush her hair with every night clings to me.
And she whispers in my ear, "I know the Tooth Fairy doesn't really exist. Neither does Father Christmas. But I love you Mama, and thank you for all the presents."
I'm taken aback; she was onto me. How long has she known? And then I'm even more overwhelmed with love; she's known for a long time I realize, but just to make ME happy, she's been playing along just to see me gleefully get presents, wrap them up, hide them, tell her stories about the Tooth Fairy and Father Christmas. I realize what it means to be truly loved by your own child; I realize that I'm the one who is still a child and she's the one mothering me.
She clings to me fast, "I love you Mama. I love you just the way you are."
And I love her too. Just the way she is.
She screams this into my left ear; I'm lying under the covers with my head just sticking out.
I mumble something like, "Great" or "Ok" or "nuther 5 minutes pleash".
I"ve had a bad night; I was tossing and turning, then finallly got up to work. Paperwork, you know, the adminsitrative stuff. The kind of sutff we all hate doing but we all have to do.
So instead of stressing about it, I just got up and did it.
I went back to bed afterwards, but in a way I shouldn't have; going back to sleep, I woke a couple of hours later with my throat burned and just feeling pretty weird, that way you do, when you know you've slept too much and too deeply at the wrong hours.
So, I grudgingly stumble out of bed; and there she is, waiting, expectant.
"Do you want me to call the Tooth Fairy?"
She starts jumping up and down, screaming, "YES!!! YES!!!!"
I surreptitiously call her father.
Clearing my throat, "Hello? Is this the Tooth Fairy?"
Silence. "Uh. No. This is her.....personal assistant."
I look at Angel. She's standing right next to me. She is feeing the space in her gum left by the tooth. She smiles proudly and waves the tooth at me. She can hear that the voice is male; no way could that be the Tooth Fairy.
"Uh-huh. RIght. Well. I've got...um....too much work to do this weekend.....um...I was wondering if the Tooth Fairy would be able to come by tonight. Angel has lost a tooth."
Thinking. "Yes, well, no actually. I've got....I mean, the TOOTH FAIRY has got too much work too; and besides, it's the weekend, so maybe...she needs a break?"
Angel looks at me. I look at her. I'm not sure what to do, but I'm pretty good at improvising. So is her Dad.
Well, yes, of course, I understand, the TOOTH FAIRY has soooo much work all week, flying around, collecting teeth, giving out presents, sure, it's the weekend, and she's in the Bahamas drinking cocktails. I understand. We all need to take time out on the weekend."
Angel nods; she's thinking about this too. I can see her with visions of a fairy, complete with wings, wand and sparkly dress, suntanning by a pool with a huge cocktail and a little umbrella inside of it in one hand, in the other, a cigarette.
"What, um, what would Angel like for her tooth?"
Bad question I'm thinking; I mean, she's going to be losing a lot of teeth yet. These little baby teeth are going to cost us a fortune here.
"Well, how about a nice book that she can..."
Jumping up and down again, "A BARBIE!!! A BARBIE!!! I WANNA BARBIE!!! AND A WINNIE THE POOH BOOK!!! AND POKEMON CARDS!!!!"
I look at her narrowly.
"Whoa, just hold on there sweetie, first of all, the Tooth Fairy only has one little bag. Secondly, don't you think all of that is a little too much for just one little baby tooth?"
She looks at her tooth. She opens her mouth to me.
"I have another tooth that's going to fall out too soon."
I sigh. "You've got 9 Barbies. 145 Pokemon cards. How about just the book?"
She pouts, sticking out her mouth and furrows her eyebrows. She puts her hands on her hips. She pouts just like her father.
Me, when I'm angry, I just yell.
It's a stand-off; she's in front of me with her I-WANT-IT-ALL-AND-I-WANT-IT-NOW stance, I'm in GO-AHEAD-AND-GIVE-ME-YOUR-BEST-I'M-YOUR-MOTHER-HELLO!-I'M-USED-TO-THIS position.
Finally, she gives in.
"Okeee....just the book."
"Tell the Tooth Fairy the book will be just fine."
"But a book with illustrations."
I laugh. Last negotiation.
"A book with nice drawings. Is that manageable?"
He's laughging too.
"Tough customer. Yeah, yeah, that's fine. I'll go and get it...I mean, THE TOOTH FAIRY will go and get it on Monday."
"Perfect."
I hang up.
"So, what did Papa say?"
"No, it wasn't your Dad, it was the Tooth Fairy's...secretary."
"YEAH RIGHT."
"How do you know it was him?"
She rolls her eyes dramatically; "DUH. Like I recognize his voice Mama."
"Oh. Right."
I'm walking towards the kitchen for some help in the form of a huge cup of coffee.
"Besides....is Papa going to call the Tooth Fairy?"
I look at her; I'm opening up the coffee grains. Ah, that scent. I swear, there isn't very much on this earth that smells quite as good, as reassuring, as calming, as wonderful as fresh coffee.
I nod, "Yup. He sure is."
"But how do you know the number? You called the Tooth Fairy once, and I spoke to her. How come you and Papa know her number?"
This was an incident a few months ago. It was July, and she was crying and wanted to speak to the Tooth Fairy. Angel had a complaint to make. The night before, in exchange for a lost tooth, all she found was a 10 Euro note. NOT what she wanted. She wanted the new Beach Babe Bikini Barbie complete with sunglasses.
So, on the spur of the moment (and I had work to do, so I needed a quick solution), I called a good friend of mine AG who is also an actress. I knew that if anyone, with her acting experience, she'd be able to switch register immediately and get into character.
She did; and they spoke at length, with Angel complaining and justifying why she'd rather have the Barbie than the cold hard cash; "You know, I'm just a child, so I'd rather have the Barbie than putting the money into a bank account. I just want the Barbie..." and my friend going, "Well, you know if you keep all the cash you get you'll be able to buy yourself a Barbie...."
Finally, the deal was settled with AG promising a Barbie one way or another and Angel wishing for the next tooth to fall out.
And so today she asks me again, "How do you know her number?"
...."Well, it's like Harry Potter."
"Huh? Like someone with a scar on his forehead and wears glasses?"
"No, magic. MAGIC. We parents, we have this...magic number we dial and we can contact the Tooth Fairy..."
She's thinking about this.
"But Harry Potter's just a film. It's make-believe."
What can I say? I love these little baby things that she still believes in. They will be gone soon; Father Christmas, the Tooth Fairy, all these things she will learn very soon that they don't exist. Accuse me of being a bad mother, but these moments are so endearing to me. They are, to me, the proof that she is still a baby, MY baby, and also the sign that my baby will be growing up very fast.
Perhaps too, a certain atonement on my part. I never believed in these things; I found them to be pretty dumb and childish, even when I was a child myself. In a way, I was never naive like that, although, perhaps I wish I had been. I remember too, my little sister catching me one night replacing one of her lost teeth with a bag of sweets; she cried and cried that the Tooth Fairy wasn't real and it was me all the time. I felt terrible, like I was taking away a part of her innocence.
And so, this little bit of innocence, I'd like Angel to keep.
Angel smiles at me. She gives me a huge hug. I hug her back, holding her so very tight, I breathe in the scent of her hair; the coconut oil I brush her hair with every night clings to me.
And she whispers in my ear, "I know the Tooth Fairy doesn't really exist. Neither does Father Christmas. But I love you Mama, and thank you for all the presents."
I'm taken aback; she was onto me. How long has she known? And then I'm even more overwhelmed with love; she's known for a long time I realize, but just to make ME happy, she's been playing along just to see me gleefully get presents, wrap them up, hide them, tell her stories about the Tooth Fairy and Father Christmas. I realize what it means to be truly loved by your own child; I realize that I'm the one who is still a child and she's the one mothering me.
She clings to me fast, "I love you Mama. I love you just the way you are."
And I love her too. Just the way she is.