I am, quite possibly, the worst Tooth Fairy ever.
Really, I am. I should really just give up the charade and tell the kids the God's-honest-truth and end the madness once and for all, for everyone's sake.
But where is the fun in that when I can just keep coming up with more and more elaborate lies and stories to keep the fantasy alive.
"Mom? Why didn't the tooth fairy come last night?"
(truth? I forgot.) "well honey, you didn't actually lose your tooth until it was almost bedtime. She was probably all booked up for tonight."
Next night: "mom, the tooth fairy still didn't come."
(crap, no spare change) "well, you know, the worlds population is growing exponentially, which means a lot of kids losing a lot of teeth, everyday. She clearly can't do it in one night. Fairies are small. It takes them a longer time to cover a greater distance. It's not like she's Santa Claus. She doesn't even have the religious exemptions Santa gets."
That weekend they are at their dad's so clearly TF isn't going to show while they're away. So by the time they come back, it's been a week and no TF.
Okay, here's the part of the story that not only makes me look like the worst tooth fairy ever, but possibly the worst mother ever as well.
I
gaslit my own child in the name of tooth fairy face-saving.
Day five or six. I have once again forgotten to stick some change under the pillow. So I stick three bucks in my pocket and hang around the girls' room, grumbling dramatically about the disastrous state it's in. While i'm in there, very stealthily, like a ninja, grab the tooth and call out "hey Tierney! Did you check to see if the tooth fairy finally came?"
"No!" comes the call and I slip then money under the pillow before she makes it to the door in time to hear "...but Reagan did." Tee finds the money ("Wow! Three dollars? Last time I only got two!" "yeah, that's probably accrued interest.") and admonishes Reagan for not seeing that the tooth fairy was there after all.
Rees insists that "well, the tooth is still there!" which, no, it's not. It's in my pocket. She can't undstand it. It's actually fairly upsetting to her, especially as Tierney is insisting that she must be imagining things.
Finally: "Uh, guys... The tooth fairy is magic you know. You don't think she could have snuck in when neither of you were looking?"
Oh, total inconsistency for the win.
So I made my child question her own reality in order to avoid outing an imaginary tooth-peddling floosy. Go ahead and judge me.
My
friend has kids of a similar age and has confessed to also being a terrible tooth fairy. I figure this is great, as it gives me plausible deniability (my catchphrase of the week) and a case to paint the Tooth Fairy as some sort of incompetent schmuck who generally just isn't very good at her job. We came with a few other scenarios that we can bullshit our way through:
Scenario: the last tooth garnered three dollars, this one only got a buck seventy five.
Truth: I bought an extra coffee this afternoon.
Explanation: the price of teeth is based loosely on the price of gold and the daily interest rates.
Scenario: how come {name redacted} gets more/less than us?
Truth: I'm cheap/overcompensating for not spending enough time with them and/or being a shitty tooth fairy
Explanation: property taxes.
I could keep this shit going until they are thirty-five, at least.
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My second post is up at Different Paths, Same Destination.
Go, read, love.