Hush Money

The Tooth Fairy forgot to collect a tooth at my house the other night. My daughter, S, had just lost her first baby molar, which for some reason was a really big deal to her. It had been loose for weeks with the adult tooth sneaking up behind it, so now that it is out, she doesn’t even have an empty space for a straw or spaghetti noodle. For some reason, she was petrified at the idea of having it pulled, even though it was flapping like a flag in the breeze, only holding on by a tiny little isthmus of gum. Finally, after enough chewy pizza crusts and bagels, the damn tooth popped out.

This little baby molar was the ninth tooth that S has lost. S lost her eight front teeth pretty quickly, so it has been about two years since the Tooth Fairy had to make an appearance. S was very ready for her. She found her tooth box, or rather, one of her many tooth boxes. She is, after all, the daughter of a dentist. Trust me, baby’s first tooth boxes were a very popular and predictable gift around here. She opted for the metallic silver plastic tooth-shaped freebie from Daddy’s office, so guess what? That tooth box you thought made the perfect gift turned out to be a big waste of your money.

Anyway, not only did she gently clean the tooth and nestle it in its little storage facility, she even left a detailed message for the Tooth Fairy on her kitty kat note paper. “Dear Tooth Fairy,” it began, “my tooth is in the box next to my clock. I would like to exchange it for money, preferably in bills. Thank you in advance for your consideration and time.” Or something like that. She brushed the rest of her teeth and went to bed, confident that a winged being would sneak into her room as she slept angelically and make a fair exchange.

How wrong was she? After she went to bed and the dishes were washed and the lunches were packed and the last load of laundry folded, the Tooth Fairy sat down to watch a few shows on her DVR recorder with her husband, who was feeling rather randy. After some subtle mating signs, the Tooth Fairy and her husband were going at it like a couple of bonobos. It was behind closed doors, consensual, and legal in most Blue states. It was also pretty good.

Afterwards, though, the Tooth Fairy needed a big glass of water and some rest. She didn’t remember she had a job to do until she was checking email the next morning, having enjoyed a rare uninterrupted night of sleep. She was just getting on Facebook when S crept downstairs and positioned herself next to the computer monitor, then began crying loudly.

“What’s wrong, baby?” I, er, the Tooth Fairy asked.

“The Tooth Fairy didn’t come!” S wailed loudly. “My tooth is still upstairs in the box. She didn’t get my tooth, and I didn’t get any money!”

“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry. You must be so disappointed.” Oh shit, baby, I forgot. “Maybe she got busy. Maybe she was tied up.” Oh, she was getting busy all right. I am not confirming the tied up part, as it is an expression of speech.

“What’s S upset about?” E came into the room after hearing her sister cry. It’s kind of sweet, actually, that E always wants to know why S is upset. I suspect she asks when she knows she is not the cause. If she is the cause, she already knows it and therefore doesn't ask.

“The tooth fairy didn’t come. I think she probably was busy last night or something. Maybe it was too cold and she got frost on her wings and couldn’t fly. Maybe she’ll come later when it warms up.” I did everything I could to make sure S didn’t lose total faith in the Tooth Fairy. I made a nice breakfast to distract her and helped S get ready for Sunday school.

Before we left, I had a private word with my husband. “I am taking the girls to Hebrew school now,” I announced.

“Yeah?” he said, barely looking up from the sports page. “Need me to do anything?”

“I sure do,” I whispered. “I need you to be the Tooth Fairy while we're gone. Seriously, you need to get up there and put some money out, and you need to get that tooth, and you need to write a note about how sorry you are that you were late and couldn’t come last night.”

“Where do you want me to put the tooth?” he asked, completely ignoring the other parts.

“In my jewelry box, bottom left-hand drawer. And don’t forget or else you won’t be getting lucky for until Santa Claus comes. Got it?”

“Anything else?” he said in a low voice.

“Yeah, you better make that note look like a fairy wrote it.”

S didn’t discover that the Tooth Fairy made an emergency daytime visit until she got ready for bed that night. She was thrilled to get a two dollar bill and a personal letter instead of the usual one dollar the Tooth Fairy leaves when she comes on time. S was so delighted that she hung the note on the fridge door for a week.

Surprisingly, neither she nor her sister commented on how much the Tooth Fairy’s handwriting looked like their father’s.