The tale of the first tooth

By Julie

Loose baby teeth creep me out. I was one of those kids who would wait until each tooth was dangling by the tiniest of threads before I would get the nerve to pull it out. I thought I had more time before I had to deal with my own kids' loose teeth. I was wrong.

Interestingly, Ellie's first adult tooth worked its way up behind one of her bottom baby teeth—frightening the bejesus out of me with its seeming hugeness and odd placement. Several text messages to family, worried googling, and finally a phone call to the dentist assured me that this is just "shark teeth," a fairly common occurrence, especially among children who have petite jaws and tight teeth. (The dentist had already informed us that Ellie's teeth are on the crowded side, a likely sign that orthodontics may be a part of her journey to adulthood. Excellent!)

The remedy recommended was to wiggle the baby tooth and "help it out." Well, there was no way I was going to be involved in that effort in the slightest, so I crossed my fingers and tried my best to ignore it when she used her tongue to poke and wiggle it at the dinner table.

Instead, I focused my efforts on a Tooth Fairy Pillow worthy of conveying this first celebrated tooth to that magical creature. It needed sequins and her name and a big heart-shaped pocket to hold the cash. Ellie drew a picture of the tooth fairy which I used as a template for the little crowned felt fairy.

And then one morning at 5am, she burst into our room so excited she could barely use words. "IT CAME OUT! My tooth CAME OUT!" After exulting over the tiny jagged tooth in her hands and placing it carefully in the new Tooth Fairy Pillow, I settled her back into bed and asked somewhat nervously, "Do you think the Tooth Fairy will come tonight? It's almost morning." She replied, "Of course!" with such certainty that I hadn't the heart to dissuade her.

Which left me about 1.5 hours of thin morning sleep to perform the swap. I laid in bed and stared at the ceiling. Among the things that went through my head: Why aren't kids alarmed at the thought of a strange magical creature entering their bedroom while they sleep? How did she know to put the tooth fairy pillow squarely under her head, where it would be most difficult to retrieve? How deeply does this kid sleep, anyway?

After what seemed like enough time, I snuck into her room, pulled the pillow out and made the swap. Just as I was setting the pillow back down, oh so carefully, her eyes popped open and looked straight at me. I realized then that I should have used some of that time lying awake in bed to come up with contingency plans, excuses, and prevarications in the event this happened. But I had none of these at the ready, so I just gasped and fled the room as quickly as possible. #momfail

In the morning, she was delighted with her $2, full of plans of what she would buy. But that evening, she asked me, "Mom, tell me truly. Is the Tooth Fairy real?"

I told her, "Isn't it more fun to believe that she is real?" This kid is smart. We tell her that scary stories and monsters and ghosts are just make-believe, but try to con her into believing in all manner of outrageous holiday-related shams. Hard to have it both ways. But I really hope she plays along with the Santa thing, at least for a few more years.