My son lost a tooth yesterday.
The tooth fairy didn’t come last night.
I walked out of the bedroom this morning and the first thing I heard was “The tooth fairy forgot me!”. Right behind him my daughter was standing with her hands on her hips glaring at me accusingly (she is in on the secrets of the adult world – since the Christmas before last) “Yeah…the tooth fairy FORGOT him.” This is the girl who would sell her little brother to a band of gypsies for enough money to buy a pack of gum and a tube of lip gloss. But factor in the fact that Mom screwed up and she is on his side faster than you can say “therapy”.
I stood there trying to figure out what to do or say and just as quick as she accused, it was my daughter who came to my rescue. “When he lost a tooth at Dad’s house, the fairy came during the day.” That’s right….the tooth fairy also failed at dad’s house (of course, at the time, I was thinking to myself “What parent forgets to play tooth fairy?”. Heh. Karma, anyone?)
Later in the day, the tooth fairy made her delivery, complete with a note explaining that there was an emergency meeting with Santa (a la The Escape Claus), because the elves were threatening to strike and Santa needed help coming up with ideas to keep them happy. Luckily, they all came up with some fantastic ideas, and the elves are happy little campers once again. Christmas is saved! But the meeting put the Tooth Fairy WAY behind schedule.
I really think the Captain is on the verge of questioning Santa, the Tooth Fairy, etc. I so want it to last longer – the magic of childhood. One more Christmas of believing…one more tooth…one more Easter…I hope it’s not asking too much.