I, the Tooth Fairy, do hereby resign

I would so love to meet the genius that came up with this brilliant idea. What must have that conversation been like?

"Ya know, honey, I think we should tell little Jimmy that when he loses his teeth he can put them under his pillow and a magical fairy will come, take the tooth, and, and...and what?! There has to be a reason for Jimmy to leave his tooth and for the fairy to come. Wait, I have it. She'll leave him....MONEY! Yes, that's it...money. But what should we call this otherwordly creature that doesn't exist? Ah yes, we'll call her the Tooth Fairy!"

I'm sure it seemed like a grand idea at the time. Maybe little Jimmy was scared of losing his first tooth so his parents lied to make it easier for him. We do this. We don't like to see our kids scared so we tell them "The shot won't hurt," and other nonsense so they, and we, can make it through whatever crisis it is we are all dealing with at the moment. Course it usually backfires when our kid finds out the truth. "That shot did too hurt!" they yell as you watch their little souls lose faith in you just a tiny bit. But that's what we do and we do it with good intentions and once our kids grow up, they realize this, and turn into the same big fat liars we are...even though they promised themselves they wouldn't do that to their children.

But this Tooth Fairy thing...it's just got to go. The other day when I picked my kids up from school, my daughter came over to my side of the car and showed me the hole in her mouth where her once tiny tooth had been. She had been working on it for weeks, much to my horror (and her delight), she would push it forward, twist it (shiver), and with all her might tried to coax it out. Finally it happened (thankfully at school) and the tooth was sent home in a tooth coffin. We have seen the tooth coffin before and quickly learned that a tooth coffin under the pillow just isn't a good combination. It seems the Tooth Fairy can't get her weak, stubby arms under the pillow, open the tooth coffin, and retrieve her treasure. Because of this, we all decided it was best to put the tooth coffin on her dresser. This would make it easier for the Tooth Fairy--and we all want to make it easy on her because her life is tough enough as it is. My daughter knows the drill and dutifully put the tooth, in the tooth coffin, on the top of her dresser all the while wondering aloud what the Tooth Fairy would leave her and how she wanted to catch her in the act. Great...a challenge.

After my husband tucks them in he comes out and asks, "Do you have any ones?"
"No, I didn't go to the strip club this week." He knows I rarely carry cash. He's the cash hound, I'm the Visa/Debit girl. He checks his wallet. A 5-spot. He checks mine. Same thing. "This tooth ain't worth 5 bucks," I say. "Do I have any quarters?" He looks and sure enough I do. Lo and behold I have 4 of them. "That'll work." Pleased that we have solved this crisis for the time being we settle in for our nightime ritual of de-stressing. We watch TV. The husband goes to bed. I watch TV. I check my email. I go to bed.

7:30 a.m. -- my bedroom door opens and I hear sniffles. Oh crap. I already know what's coming. The Tooth Fairy was a no-show. My daughter doesn't understand why the Tooth Fairy didn't take her tooth. "She didn't even leave a note or nothing!" she cries. "hmmmm...well, maybe it was because the tooth was in the tooth coffin." "What?" "Uh, I mean the tooth box." After a lengthy discussion, she and I surmise that the slacker Tooth Fairy must have gotten confused (she's not a Purdue graduate, after all) and missed it. So much for the whole "all-knowing" hullabaloo that was previously associated with magical beings like the Tooth Fairy, Santa, the Easter Bunny, etc. We decide that this time we should put the tooth in a plastic baggy and put THAT under her pillow. Brilliant.

8:00 p.m.--My daughter is insisting that her father put her tooth in a plastic baggy. Luckily he was filled in on the whole fiasco from last night, so her request didn't seem that strange. The kids go to bed. We watch TV. Hubby goes to bed. I watch TV. I check my email. I get ready for bed. I go to bed. I get back out of bed. I search for the quarters. They are nowhere to be found. I wake hubby up. "Where are the quarters?" "On my thermos." Sure enough...right where I had looked (and didn't see), there are the four shiney quarters just waiting to take their place under my daughters' pillow. I think my husband didn't trust that the Tooth Fairy would get it right this time. :o/

Now, anyone that has ever had to creep into their kids' bedroom can relate to this. When you need to wake them up they won't hear a single noise. You can dance, you can jump, you can jiggle the doorknob, and they will keep on snoring as if you didn't exist. But when you are trying to be sneaky not only will every sound be amplified by a thousand, your child will hear every sound possible; including the shuffling of bare feet on carpet. I turned my daughters doorknob as slowly, as quietly, as restrained as I possibly could. I swear I may as well have been breaking in because it sounded the same. She sat up, mumbled something incoherently, and flopped back down. I waited with sweat starting to bead up on my forehead. Finally I heard the sounds of deep breathing so I knew it was safe to proceed. The next step was a dangerous one. My daughter sleeps with a nightlight on. Usually this comes in handy when you need to dodge the millions of toys that litter her bedroom floor, but I also know this could be the downfall of a parent up to no good--a.k.a. me. As soon as my body blocked that light her third eye was going to open up and tell her brain, "There is SOMEONE in your room!!!! WAKE UP!!!" Again, that's all fine and dandy if a prowler gets in but it truly sucks for the Tooth Fairy...I mean me. Seeing as how I know this I'd already devised a lie...errr plan for if her other eyes opened. Thankfully all she did was stir a bit, smack her lips, and did a spread eagle thing with her legs in the most unladylike fashion. I did have a moment of panic as it seemed she was searching for her comforter to cover up with, but she gave up after a few seconds. By this point that inner child in me was trying not to laugh. HARD. I guess it's because the whole situation was just so ridiculous that it struck me as funny. Plus I tend to get giggly when I know I'm doing something stupid and when I'm trying to be quiet it usually comes out more like snorts than giggles. Heavy, breathy, odd sounding snorts. I know this and knowing this makes it all the more difficult to keep from doing it. I slip the quarters under her pillow thinking that if she does wake up and checks for the Tooth Fairy to have come, I can lie and tell her I just wanted to tuck her in and "Oh look at that! The Tooth Fairy must have come and let you keep your tooth!" With a quick glance I knew it was now time to "easily" grab the plastic bag and pull it from under her head. One problem. I washed my face before all of this. That's not the problem. I applied lotion to my face before I went to bed. The lotion has made my fingers slippery. I can't grab the stupid plastic baggy. Now I am ready to burst. I have done well up until this point but I can literally feel the laughter bubbling up in my throat. As soon as I have what I've come for the next decision is whether to run out or do the quieter version and slowly walk out. I chose to walk. Remember that my dear daughter...I walked out biting my tongue just to keep the magic alive for you. I don't think I breathed the entire time.

As soon as I shut the door, stored the tooth in a hidden place, and crawled back into bed I told my husband that whoever created the Tooth Fairy should be shot. Oh, and the Tooth Fairy is resigning. She's done.