We are now full participants in the trifecta of parental deceit. We’ve been perpetrating the myths of the Easter Bunny and Santa for years. This weekend, we introduced Monkey Boy to the Tooth Fairy.
He’s had a loose tooth for weeks. He’s been wiggling it like it was an assignment. But it hasn’t fallen out. Charlie and I haven’t rushed him because we both had some fairly traumatic tooth-pulling episodes in our childhoods. We weren’t super interested in repeating them.
Saturday night the tooth was obviously bothering him while he was trying to eat dinner. I reached in his mouth to check the progress and just popped that sucker right out.
Monkey Boy didn’t seem to know that there would be blood associated with tooth loss. He freaked out. “I’m bleeding! There’s blood! Blood is in my mouth! You made me bleed!” It was so very dramatic.
Because Charlie is a good parent, he calmed the child down. He told him it would be fine. He assured him this would be worth it because the Tooth Fairy was going to visit now. This was an intriguing notion to the Monkey.
He put his tooth under his pillow at bed time and fell asleep, now giddy with anticipation about what treasure the Tooth Fairy would bring. We used the word “treasure” several times because that seemed like a very exciting prospect.
Sunday morning I heard him in his room flinging pillows everywhere trying to find his Tooth Fairy treasure.
“Mom!” he shouted. He was holding the gold dollar coin left in the place of his tooth.
“You said there would be treasure!” he accused me. I pointed to the gold coin in his hand. “There is treasure! You have a gold coin! How awesome is that?!”
He looked at me like I was simple. “This isn’t treasure! It’s just money!”
Just.Money. Obviously, we’re doing everything wrong.