The Perils of Being the Tooth Fairy

This morning Ruth came into our room and made her way round to my side of the bed. I could tell from her walk and countenance, even in the dim light of our early-morning-closed-curtain room, that she was NOT happy.

“Did the tooth fairy come?” I asked her. She nodded but maintained her sad pout.
“What on earth could be wrong now?” I wondered silently.

I had been expecting happiness and exuberance to be honest… the tooth fairy HAD remembered to visit this time! The day before we had had floods of tears because the tooth fairy (for the first ever tooth she lost) had failed to turn up.

I had sought to placate the upset with various musings: “Maybe she was super busy and is running late… Maybe she got slowed down picking up some big wisdom teeth from an older kid… Maybe she’ll come tonight, maybe even during the day… She won’t have forgotten you, I’m sure!”

The tears eased but the sadness continued. I needed to think quickly. I kicked myself for forgetting to ‘do my duty’, especially as it had crossed my mind at some point the previous evening!
“Do we even have cash in the house these days?” I pondered… I knew most of my coins had gone in the bucket for Children-in-Need a month or two before. I thought I recalled seeing some coins in William’s drawer, but Ruth was on our bed and unwilling to move towards getting ready for school, so great her woe! So how would I look, let alone get any out, without her hearing or noticing?! I gave her the phone to play a game, then went on a stealth mission to endeavour to locate a coin I could sneak under her pillow.

Subtly sitting on the edge of the bed with my back to Ruth, and calling out to Katherine to check she was ok so as to cover any noise, I opened the drawer and was delighted to see some coins nestled at the edge. With barely a sound I extracted two 50p coins and then left the room with the goal of getting them into Ruth’s room and under her pillow without being noticed.

Between waking the older girls, beginning to get Katherine dressed and making noise to cover any quiet moments that would enable the opening of a squeaky door to be heard, I surrepticiouly snuck in and successfully managed to exchange the tooth for the two 50p coins, wrapping them back up in the envelope school had placed the tooth in. Victory!

As is the usual morning routine, the older girls dragged themselves out of bed, whilst the younger two- who had already been up a while – were encouraged and motivated to progress into school uniform. Before going downstairs I casually commented to Ruth that maybe she could check under her pillow again to see if per chance the tardy tooth fairy had shown up. 

Oh the excitement and joy! She’d come! Ruth delightedly ran out to show everyone her coins and as she studied them and vocally detailed the pictures on them, my heart sank. In my haste and relief at finding coins in the drawer I had unknowingly grabbed two special Peter Rabbit ‘collectors edition’ coins that William had been given. Now what was I going to do! Tooth fairy fail again!

Downstairs over breakfast Ruth declares that she needs ME to write a note from the tooth fairy for her to take to school – one she can decorate before we go – so that she can show her teacher and friends. WHAT?! The expectations!

The fact that her second wobbly tooth was literally lying flat from her gum before she even went to school that morning meant that I knew there was a high chance the tooth fairy was going to be on duty again the following night. I was going to be on the ball this time!

The evening came and went and I was snuggled in bed not long before midnight when I had a sudden (wretched – because it meant I had to get out of a snuggly warm bed) thought that I had forgotten, or nearly forgotten, to gather the tooth and dish out the dosh! I clambered out, intent on victory, but anxious to not wake or disturb a slumbering Ruth. This time I checked the coins and found a regular £2… I had instructed Ruth where to safely put her 50p coins, so I knew I would find them easily. With flashlight covered but cracked so that a sliver of light fell in the room, I stealthily crept in and gathered the tooth from under the pillow. Discovering some crumbs as I brought out the tooth I wondered what on earth crumbs were doing under her pillow but thought nothing more of it and brushed them out. I collected the two special 50p coins and wrapped the £2 coin in the envelope that had previously contained the tooth, tucked it back under the pillow and crept out. Phew. Job done. Child still sleeping. Victory!

So it was following this, six hours later, that this less than happy Ruth appears by my bed, her countenance sad and perturbed.

“The tooth fairy came? Then why so downcast?”
“She did come, and she ate the bread I left her…  Mum, I snuck downstairs and got a bit of bread for her to eat and put it under my pillow.” She said this rather sheepishly, yet unapologetically. Ah, the connection with the crumbs suddenly made sense.
“But I left her paper and even a pen under my pillow and she didn’t.write.me.a.note!! AND she took my special coins!” She was emphatic in her disappointment.

As tears again started to well up I bit my lip to hold back a smile. Oh the perils and oh the demands of being the tooth fairy! I’d never known expectations so high! Nor had I known a child leave food for the hard-working tooth-fairy! I had been remiss in failing to look far enough under the pillow to discover pen and paper left for a note, but was determined to help her see that there had been some measure of victory! Again the tooth-fairy’s busyness and the demand for her services were floated as a possible reason why she may not have had time to stop and write… but maybe she would come again to do so when she had chance!

Off to school she went and I determined to make good the tooth-fairy’s errors during the day. I usually leave for the school run at 3pm, but, already a couple of minutes late on my way to the bathroom before leaving, I realise I have not written a note. Oh no! It HAS to be done. Hastily I crouch by Ruth’s bed, gather the felt-tip pen and scrap of paper from under the pillow and write the note. By the time I’m done I’m really late leaving, but William joins me as there’s a parent meeting after school and I drop him before parking the car. And the day goes on.

Later on, back home, Ruth happens upon the note and comes running downstairs with elation… “She wrote a note Mum!! Look!!” I smile. One filled with relief and humour and love. Victory – finally!

[Disclaimer: (Actually, I don’t know if it is a disclaimer, maybe more of a back story…): When William and I started having the girls and they got to an age of awareness, we realised we had very different views on some aspects of parenting. William is a creative being and whilst I am too, I was at that stage very boxed in and very black and white in my views. I have an intense desire for reality and truth so when it came to the idea of such things as Father Christmas/Santa or the tooth fairy, I was very sure that we should not lie to the girls but be upfront and honest with them that such things do not exist and are purely make-believe. William however, was of the thought that allowing children to have an imagination and experience the excitement and wonder that comes with that, should absolutely be a part of childhood. It was a stretch for me, but over the years I have softened and come to embrace some of his wonder and the fun that he loves to have with the girls in the sphere of imagination and creativity. So, although this is all light-hearted and fun, to be the tooth-fairy – with all it’s perils – is actually a sign of freedom and growth for me, and part of the joy of being married to the wonderful William McCann!]