Screw You, Toothfairy

Can I tell you guys a secret?  And you have to promise not to tell my kids.  Cool?  Okay.

hate the toothfairy.


Well, maybe “hate” is a strong word, but in the world of make-believe, parent-operated beings, she’s my least favorite.  I mean, she wasn’t when I was losing my teeth.  God, no.  She was AMAZING then.  (Well, until probably, like, third grade when I finally and firmly decided she was either my mom or dad (probably Mom, as she was the more organized one).  But now that I’ve gone from tooth-loser to tooth-winner, my feelings are not so fond.  Why?  Here, let me tell you a story:

Last Friday, Jon and I were out for the evening, attending the Banff Film Festival in Lawrence (and you should totally check it out, if you ever have the chance).  When we arrived home, our sitter told us that Maddie had lost a tooth–she wasn’t supposed to tell us, per Maddie, but she’s a smart cookie, that girl, and she realized that if she didn’t tell us, we’d probably wake up to a very disappointed little girl.  We, as the apparently quite stingy parents we are, pay out a gold $1 coin per tooth, so while I drove the sitter home, Jon snuck in and replaced this particular specimen with a coin, and shortly after, we went to bed.

I woke up at 4 a.m., and noticing there was light in the hallway, I went to see which of the girls was up and if she needed any help in the bathroom or whatever.  (They don’t usually get up in the middle of the night, or if Gabbie does, she just yells for us.  Lights on and someone out of her room is unusual.)  Maddie’s light was on and there was a book on her bed, but she wasn’t in her room, and she wasn’t in the bathroom.  I stumbled back to my room only to find she was already in our bed, having crawled in next to Jon.  She was WIDE awake.  And excited. EXCITED.

“Mommy!  Guess what?!  While you were gone, I lost my tooth [insert very long, detailed discussion of the actual losing which I will spare you because I almost fell asleep standing while it was happening], and I put it under my pillow, and the toothfairy came!  She came!  I’m so excited!  Look!  Look, I got another gold coin!”


At which point, the coin was thrust almost up my nose so that I could better see it.  “That’s awesome, baby,” I croaked, somehow remembering that I was supposed to have no prior knowledge of said tooth*. “I’m really excited for you, too, but it’s 4 in the morning.  You need to go back to sleep.”  This was…less exciting.  She was too excited to sleep, she said.  She just wanted to stay up.  She would never be able to fall asleep.  Nevermind that a) it WAS 4 a.m., or b) that she had to meet her girl scout troop downtown at 8:45 to walk in a local parade, or c) that she had to be on the soccer field at 11 for an hour long game, or d) that we were going straight from soccer to the KU football trouncing game, and there would be very little downtime at all.  Sigh.

So, I took her back to her room, turned off the light, and lay down beside her.  I rubbed her back.  I talked her through a full body-scan meditation**.  We lay there some more.  She did not go back to sleep.  Finally, I did what any good parent will do–I left.  I told her that I needed to get some sleep, and she was to lie there, with the light off, and she was not to get out of bed.  According to her, she did fall asleep for a while after I left; I really have no idea.

I have related this story to prove a point:  Being the toothfairy sucks.  It is not like being Santa or the Easter Bunny (or whatever traditional equivalent you may have) because those things are scheduled.  However, you never freaking know when you’re going to be called upon to become the toothfairy!  And once you’re called into action, it’s fraught with pressure!  For starters, you have to remember, when you’re going to bed, that your kid lost a damn tooth in the first place or you have to set an alarm to GET UP IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT.  Then you have to sneak, guerrilla-style, into your kid’s room find the tooth from wherever she’s stashed it and remove it without waking her.  Finally, you have to do the same in reverse, replacing the tooth with whatever you’ve deemed an appropriate reward for basically allowing nature to happen, again without waking your kid.  This last also brings up a secondary point, you better have whatever the reward is on hand.  In case you were wondering, no, we do not have giant piles of gold coins lying around the house.  Once, I actually took a previously used gold coin out of her piggy bank and used it again.  Because I am a monster.  A monster who believes in recycling.


Blergh.  It’s just not my thing, dear reader.  I know there are some parents who LOVE this kind of stuff.  These are the parents who have entire Pinterest boards dedicated to Elf on the Shelf and birthday mornings and ways to make your kids’ fruit look like a Van Gogh painting.  I am, quite obviously, not one of those parents.  I will do the tooth fairy thing, but only because it means so much to my kid(s).  I will not make a big production out of it, I will not put any planning into it, and I will not apologize for being slightly annoyed by the sudden addition of something else to my to-do list.

Five down, you guys.  Only 15 more to go.***

Love always,

The World’s Least Fun Mom

(With apologies to The Rock, who probably didn’t deserve being dragged into this.  On the other hand, he did make that movie, so… You know what?  Nevermind.  He totally had this coming.)


* This should really make you want me on your heist team, should you decide to put one together.  I’m good at remembering all the lies and alibis, even when sleep deprived.  What other skills I would bring to heisting remains to be seen…

** I do not actually meditate.  I like to use guided meditation recordings to relax myself enough to fall asleep because I often have trouble turning off my brain.  Yes, I think I did just sort of humble-brag that I’m too busy/important/intelligent to sleep.  I’m insufferable.

*** Yes, I Googled this.