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I Suck At Being The Tooth Fairy

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shutterstock_4950949__1374844791_74.134.205.46If there is one aspect of my parenting reality that I consistently fail at, it’s my job as Tooth Fairy. I love the magic of childhood. I love making holidays special for my kids, and having them believe in miracles. We wish on falling stars. We set out milk and cookies. We throw coins into fountains. But when they lose a tooth, I may as well be like some sort of monster garbage fairy who is chugging wine straight from the bottle, ashing a cigarette on the carpet, and scratching my crotch. And burping.

I suck at being the Tooth Fairy.

I have good intentions! I swoon when I get a new catalogue in the mail and see things like this!

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(Image: Chasing Fireflies)

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(Image: Chasing Fireflies)

I want to be the mommy who has a magical adorable tooth fairy pillow and a beautiful silver tooth box ! But I am so NOT that. I’m the mom who seriously tells her kid to put her tooth IN A ZIPLOC BAGGIE and leave it on the kitchen counter because “Sometimes Godzilla sleeps in your room and the Tooth Fairy is afraid of the cat so she may not come in there” all because if my kid sticks her tooth under the pillow she will wake up when we try and make the transaction. That’s right, the magic of the Tooth Fairy in my house consists  of a damn plastic baggie on my kitchen counter, exchanged for WHATEVER cash we have on hand because we are so used to using debit cards that we NEVER HAVE CASH. And if for some miracle we do have cash at home, it always goes to tipping the pizza dude. You think after four kids I would have a small stockpile of ones around, but no. if we have cash it’s always in stupid denominations so my kid ends up getting a ten dollar bill. For a freakin’ tooth. Or a one dollar bill, two quarters, a dime, and a half open box of Tic Tacs from the bottom of my purse.

The other night my daughter bounced into the room all excited holding a bloody tissue with a lost tooth in it. After she left the room to go put her tooth in the magical Ziploc baggie my husband and I looked at each other. It was nine thirty at night. We were watching TV. We were both tired, and didn’t feel like hitting up the ATM.

I called her into the room and told her this:

We really want this tooth so we can have one of your baby teeth as our very own to remember you losing teeth when you were little. Can we buy it from you for twenty bucks and tell the Tooth Fairy not to come?

She happily took the offer. What kid wouldn’t? Twenty bucks for a stupid tooth. That’s what it cost me for being a shitty Tooth Fairy.  If I had to do it over again, I would be one of those moms with the adorable fairy box and the stack of ones hidden away. But I’m that mom with a plastic baggie and the wrong amounts of cash. I know that it’s not the end of the world and my kid won’t be scarred by my bad Tooth fairy skills, but that twenty bucks could have gone for a decent bottle of wine.

(Image:  Fotocrisis/shutterstock)