Tooth Fairy, Butch Style

Last week, my son lost his 3rd tooth. He brought it home from school in a tooth shaped necklace holder. He was very excited to leave it for the Tooth Fairy (TF). She must be a femme, right, with that name?

Anyway, tooth in hand he was excited. I realized that I did not have ANY cash on me. The going rate is $5 per tooth – FYI. I disguised the needed stop at the store by getting the kids involved in picking out things for the next day’s lunches. Near the checkout, my son demonstrated a strong interest in the newest Madagasgar DVD – the one that includes the rainbow Afro. What to do? I instructed the kids to unload the basket and went one lane over, surreptitiously handing the clerk the DVD and asking if she could get it into my bags without the kids knowing. She could. Hooray!

I went back to our basket and felt a pang of guilt seeing the kids load the beer I also bought (natch) onto the belt. Oh well, can’t be a perfect mother. Really, who wants to be?

An hour or so after bedtime, I swapped out the tooth (leaving the prized tooth holder) for the fiver and the DVD. My son was ecstatic the next morning. How did the TF know? I just said I wanted this movie last night. Gosh, honey, she must be magic.

Happy Butch feeling very satisfied and mom-of-the-year-candidate like. Flash forward to the very next day. On the way home from school, my son pulls out (of his mouth) a second tooth that was apparently dangling in the now-bloody socket. It sounded pretty gross to hear my daughter’s play-by-play. Home, we go. This time my son wants to write the TF a note. I’m so proud. He wrote his own note! I’m feeling good because I still have fives and clearly he wouldn’t expect another gift – two nights in a row. Right? Wrong.

“Dear TF can I have Scan 2 Go please? Thanks for last night. ”

Scan 2 Go? What the hell is that?!? I ask but not too eagerly because the TF is more believable if she brings things I don’t even know about. “It’s a car, Mom.” Duh. Tooth and note properly under his pillow, he’s off to sleep.

The source of all things – Amazon – shows me what this car is and I order one. The purple one. Now for the TF’s reply note. If you leave her a note, she writes back. Did you know that? I write the note in big girly, loopy cursive to throw them off the trail. The car will arrive next week, TF tells my son. Note and fiver in hand, I head in to make the switch.

My son is a very sound sleeper, so I am careful but confident as I swap out the goods. What I didn’t count on was my daughter turning to me from the top bunk as I stood up after the swap, and saying, “Hi Mom.”

Busted. Oh my. Think fast, Mom. She still believes in TF. Ummm… “Hi baby, I just came in to check on you and make sure you still have no fever. How are you?” She wasn’t feeling well earlier, so this is at least plausible.

Thirsty, she says. I use the faucet noise as cover to slip my son’s note and tooth into my pocket. Water. Good night kiss and flee. Yeesh. Magic preserved a little longer.

It’s amazing how fast you can go from candidate for mom-of-the-year to destroyer of your children’s innocence and belief in magic.

I’m not worried that this story will make you think I’m less butch. I know you know it takes a real butch to fake loopy cursive, tiptoe into her kids’ room, and lie on her feet to preserve the fairies and magic of childhood a little longer.

It’s butch to be the Tooth Fairy. Be butch.