Maybe Jack Ate the Toothfairy

My six year old lost her second tooth recently. She is the determined sort, and when she decided it was time for said tooth to be removed, she simply started a wiggle campaign that would have Hillary shaking in her boots. She just began following me around one evening, inciting me to pull it. Promising me that if I didn't just take it out she'd continue to harass me for the entire evening. I think her words were: Mom, you know what's going to happen if you don't pull it out. And her wiggly grin, complete with a pinchhold of thumb and forefinger and a streaming line of clear drool that ran like a waterfall down her arm to her elbow, was irresistable, even though it fronted for a threat from a child--something i swore i'd never respond to.

But I conceded. I had her grab a papertowel (for a dry grip, and also to mask the tearing feeling that accompanies the removal of a tooth. to mask it for me. it makes me shudder. in fact even the MEMORY of the tearing feeling makes me shudder) and i twisted a tiny little tooth out into the air. she was stunned for a minute--and then over the moon with happiness. and she ran about the house, showing off the tooth to her sister, her dad, her dogs--first cash (see my tooth cash? it's my little baby tooth it is), then jack (see it jack? it's so tiny! tiny little tooth jack! tiny little tooth. no, little jackie boy, it's not yours! it's my tooth, jackie. my little toothy. leave it? leave my tooth jack.)

And then she said mom? i'm going to put my tooth on the fireplace mantle so that i can bring it to school tomorrow and show mrs. russell. and i'll put it under my pillow tomorrow night for the tooth fairy. you don't think she'll be mad if i don't give her my tooth tonight, do you?

what i didn't hear later that night was her sister coming down the stairs to fetch said tooth after they discussed the matter from their beds after i'd tucked them both in. apparently big sister decided little sister ought to go for the cash right away, and deSCRIBE the tooth to mrs russell instead. so the next morning went like this:

i'm in my room getting dressed when abby enters sobbing. sobbing.

mom! she says through some very dramatic waterworks. mom! guess what the tooth fairy left me last night. (imagine six year old drama--big eyes, brows squeezed toward the heavens, head tilted, arms squeezed by her sides). THIS. THIS IS WHAT THE TOOTH FAIRY LEFT ME LAST NIGHT! SHE HATES ME! and she holds out her hand to me. and i see nothing at first. i think this is a very good way to make a point, and i am pretty impressed by her fistful of nothing, until i look a little closer. she is holding a splinter of wood from her bed. a little tiny chip of unpainted board, which i'm certain she has found during her dramatic bed-dig in search of the money stash she expected from the fairy.

oh my. it was very very hard not to laugh at this moment. my daughter is holding up a splinter. from the tooth fairy.

i am realizing i'm in for a rough morning, and i follow her up the stairs sorting out the drama. she's buying my explanations so far--and if i find the tooth i can save myself. i actually contemplate grabbing one of kate's old teeth we've got in an envelope in my closet, just in case i can't find it up there--but i do. its on the floor under her bed, next to a few more splinters of wood from the underside of her mattress.

jack has followed us up there for the hunt, and he's now wagging his tail at our discovery of the missing tooth on the floor under the bed. or at our backsides sticking up in the air.

abby is still heartbroken as we back out from under the bed, and i'm seriously at a loss as to how to smooth this one over. but i try this:

maybe the tooth fairy DID come last night, abby. maybe jack ATE the tooth fairy....jaaaAACK? did you eat the tooth fairy? jack? drop her jack! drop the tooth fairy! not yours jack! drop her!

it worked. she was laughing and looking for fairy dust on jack's tongue by the time i headed back downstairs to get dressed. i'd saved that fairy's ass yet again. i believe by now she owes me at least one sparkly favor.