An Open Letter to the Tooth Fairy

Dear Tooth Fairy,

I am writing to thank you for your ongoing support of my son's dental hygiene and tooth loss.  I must confess that I was slightly concerned when, at the beginning of July and at almost seven years old, Cael had not lost a single baby tooth.  But with renewed excitement about your nocturnal arrival, he began a tooth wiggling frenzy and soon had extracted his first baby tooth.

You left $1.00 and a new electric toothbrush, in accordance with his wishes.  You might have encouraged him to ask for a new dining room set or several packs of size 2 diapers, but instead you honored his request and undoubtedly set a precedent that will haunt me for years to come.  I suppose that was the right thing to do.

With the knowledge that lost teeth equaled free stuff and money, Cael declared war on the remaining teeth in his mouth.  Within ten days, he had worked over a front tooth until it surrendered in a bloody, slobbery mess that I had to pretend wasn't gross.  Putting mind over matter, I cleaned and stowed the teeth in a clear plastic bag.  After all, what is Motherhood if not a series of gross events celebrated as milestones?

The very next day, Cael simultaneously lost his third tooth, the ability to make an "s" sound, and a pair of my earrings.  It's possible that the earring loss was unrelated, but I'm not ready to rule it out as an unfortunate side effect.  Perhaps his common sense leaked out through the hole in his face.

Meanwhile, and probably in a bid to capture a bit of the glory you often feel, our family members also began rewarding Cael with money as he yanked his teeth.  Overwhelmed with tiny rootless teeth, I began storing them in a plastic baggy, and then promptly lost that bag.  But don't you worry, I eventually found the teeth in the refrigerator, mixed in with about 1/2 cup of grated Parmesan cheese that I'd placed in a zipper bag I thought was empty.  Everyone can use a little extra calcium, right?

And last Sunday, three days after tooth number three was removed, tooth number four narrowly escaped being swallowed.  After cashing in on a dollar from Papa, my six year-old son officially had more cash on hand than I carried.

 Do you offer parent loans?  Used tooth storage lockers?

It is with these losses in mind that I write to you today, asking you officially to stop.  Cut it out, wrap it up, nix your schtick, pack up and go.  Cael doesn't have any more loose teeth, you hear me?  But because of your lifestyle and the way you throw money around, my son is actively trying to loosen teeth that are still firmly rooted in his jaw. 

You may submit your apology in writing, or in lieu of a letter, I would accept $17.25 for funds lost (toothbrush included).  In addition, I would appreciate if you would send either Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny as proxy should you need to conduct any future business in our home.  Please, no leprechauns-- they freak me out.

On second thought, you'll be hearing from my lawyer.

Sincerely,
Mary Foreman