She told me almost every day that she had a loose tooth. Do 9 year olds still get loose teeth? It's been far too long since I was that age!
When did she last lose a tooth? Did I write it down somewhere? Which tooth was it? Do I need to call the dentist for her, even though I know her brother is the one who really needs to go?
Those were the questions running through my head on a nightly basis. Her tooth certainly didn't feel all that wiggly to me. I very well could have talked to friends with children her age or older. I also could have turned to the Google for answers. But, no. I chose to worry.
As it turns out, it is perfectly normal for a 9 year old to still lose teeth. I finally turned to the Google after she yanked her tooth out. I'm saying "yanked" because I swear it wasn't that loose! After Master Google calmed my nerves, round 2 of the freak out began. I, being the Tooth Fairy (shh!), needed money. It was not a good week for money. In this house, we happen to enjoy running water and lights to see what the hell we're doing. The weeks we decide it's better to not sit on the couch in the dark stinking to high heaven are also the weeks we happen to have little actual cash in our wallets. It was also after the kids' bedtime, which meant pajamas for me. I'm not the type of girl who wears her jammies out in public. A bank trip was out of the question.
The husband and I scrounged up a few bucks. Teeth aren't cheap these days! And then the waiting game began. My daughter would much rather read than go to sleep. But then her cough started. And then she needed a tissue. And then she needed to refill her water bottle. And then she needed a tissue. And then she needed to pee.
Good grief! Go the fuck to sleep! Tooth Fairy is tired!
It is silent.
Except for the husband listening to his beloved Bears on the tv downstairs. go Packers
I tip toe to my daughter's room. I push the button on her lamp. The princesses do their dance as the light shuts off. Not so quietly I might add. I freeze and watch. She hasn't stirred. I click on the bathroom light so I can try to avoid the disaster on her bedroom floor. I tried, but was unsuccessful. Nor was I quiet!
I slip the envelope containing her tooth from her bookshelf. I quietly slip a few crisp bills between a soccer trophy and a Little Pet Shop creature. I slink out of her room, reach around the corner, and tap the switch in the bathroom.
"Mom?! Why did you turn off my light?"
I hurdle over American Girl clothes and tap on her lamp. The princesses twirl once again as soft light fills her room. I freeze as I cross my fingers, hoping she rolls back over and drifts off.
She rolls over. I think I'm safe. It might also help that my daughter, at 9 years old, is blind as a bat without her glasses.
The following morning, she was so excited to have some money to add to her jar. I smiled, hoping she stops believing soon. It's easier that way I think.
Just not Santa. He IS real!