The Timing of the Teeth

First Published in the Tri Town Transcript Nov 1, 2017

By Esther C. Baird

My daughter stood next to me, obviously agitated, as I typed on my computer. She’s 10 but she can hold a stare and, with it, a feeling. In this case the feeling I felt burrowing into my brain was one of unmet expectations laced with annoyance and a side helping of projected guilt.

I sighed. “What? What’s with the attitude?” I asked.

She tilted her chin up and said primly, “Could you PLEASE let the tooth fairy know that I lost a tooth, my first molar in fact, and I put it in my tooth fairy pillow!”

What? Was I a messenger service to the magical creatures department? “Okay,” I said, returning to my work.

She kept standing there. “What?” I asked again, though a part of me knew, deep down, that this was likely not going to be the brief conversation I had hoped for. And an even deeper part of me knew why. And by why, I mean, whose fault it was.

“Mommy! My first molar! It’s important.” She continued, “I lost it a few days ago and the tooth fairy hasn’t shown up yet. My friend gets $10 for regular teeth and her very own flying pony and life size chocolate castle for molars!”

Or you know, something like that. The point is, her friend’s mom, er, tooth fairy, is amazing.

But the cold reality is, I’m not a mom who is swayed by what other incredible moms are doing. Maybe those moms are not gifted in the fine art of ignoring their child while they busily scan Pinterest for dinner ideas, when dinner is only 20 minutes away, and there appears to only be cheese, raisins and shredded carrots in the house.

Still, I took my daughter’s point, and replied helpfully, “Well sweetie, maybe you should give your friend your tooth to put under her pillow, perhaps she could share any ponies she gets.”

See? I’m full of great parenting ideas.

She huffed. It was at this moment that our eldest daughter interjected on her sister’s behalf. This is a rare occurrence and so it made me take notice. If she was willing to defend her younger sister then perhaps there was more afoot than I realized.

“You know,” she began, “I lost a molar, it was one of my 12 year old molars, and it’s still in my tooth fairy pillow. I’m 13 now and,” she paused to make sure I was listening, ’it’s been in there since last Christmas.”

Regular readers, I am here to tell you that it is now October. Said another way, that tooth had been in my daughter’s pillow for T-E-N months. It was both gross, and negligent. It was in fact, gross negligence.

“Well!” I said fully attuned to the situation now. “That is disgusting and further, what is wrong with the tooth fairy?? She is doing a horrible, horrible job. I mean I can’t sit here knowing there is a tooth in your bed, of all places, that has been there so long it could have decomposed into rotting dust under your pillow as you sleep each night! Aren’t you bothered by that?”

My daughters both looked at me this time, as if to say of course they were bothered, greatly bothered in fact, and the feeling I got coming from them was that the tooth fairy was not exactly the problem person.

That night the tooth fairy left them each an appropriate amount of money. And, I hear, used a tissue to pull the ancient molar out of the tooth fairy pillow since she did not care to touch it with her lovely, magical hands.

There were no ponies handed out, just cold hard cash, the kind that buys people off. Basically the tooth fairy dabbled in bribery . . . is what was reported back to me, I mean.