Of all the areas a father could fail, I never thought I’d fail in the area of the whimsical and fanciful. I think I do a pretty good job of encouraging their imaginations, of trying to protect and prolong their childhood innocence and wonder, and as part of both – belief and participation in imaginary being. Santa is real. The Easter Bunny brings candy, and the Tooth Fairy brings you money. So far I’ve been good at holding up my end of the deal. I do the doing, and they do the believing.
For the post part, anyway. My 8 year-old daughter caught on to the Easter Bunny last year. Through no fault of my own though. I don’t know if she heard something at school or just realized that there is no way a little bunny could possibly deliver baskets without any thumbs, any kind of vehicle, or any kind of helper elves and/or flying helper animals. She did once try to blame the Easter Bunny for writing on the walls, but other than, she’s over him. I mean, of all the imaginary beings, the Easter Bunny is by far the weakest. For both a small child and the adult perpetuating it, the Tooth Fairy is more believable and easier to execute. A fairy can fly in and out of a room on a kid by kid basis while carrying a dollar and tooth way easier than a rabbit and carry millions of baskets and deliver and/or hide eggs all on the same day. Its just simple logic.
Anyway, while it may be seeming simply for a fairy to fly in undetected and exchange tooth for cash, it is apparently more than this dad can handle. I discovered this fact in the worst possible way – my six year old daughter disappointingly announcing this morning that the Tooth Fairy didn’t come. Failure. A complete and total failure of whimsical proportions.
Not only did I fail at my fairy duties, the reason I failed flies in the face of what I try to be about. I try not to be a stereotypical dad. I try to to better than the oafish sitcom style dad, or the grouchy old man that have become what many people think of when they think of a typical dad. Try as I might, I sometimes fall short. I forgot to fulfill my Tooth Fairy role because I was watching football. For real life. That isn’t a summary of a Home Improvement plot. I stayed up late to watch the Lions game (which going into overtime didn’t help) and by the time it was done I was very tired and just went straight to bed. No tooth taken, no money left, no laugh track. Just one dad sinking to the stereotypical lowest.
Trying to cover the guilt on my face with surprise, I assured her that the Tooth Fairy didn’t forget about her. “Maybe we can write her a letter,” I suggested for no real reason other than to suggest some plan of action. I reassured my daughter that the Tooth Fairy didn’t forget about her and racked my brain for possible excuses. So many kids lost a tooth yesterday that her hands were full? She must have tried stopping by before everybody was asleep? She was watching the Lions game too and must have lost track of time? Luckily, before I needed to come with something other than a general assurance, she retreated to her room and closed the door.
Was this sad? Yes. However, it also gave me the opportunity to spring into action. I quickly grabbed a dollar and put it in one of her shoes. Seemed like a good enough place for the Tooth Fairy’s backup drop zone. So for all you other parents out there, keep that in mind – sometimes the Tooth Fairly puts the money a shoe and leaves the tooth where it was. Let’s make that a thing. If the kid asks why, just play dumb. Who’s to say why the Tooth Fairy does what she does? It’s not like you’re the Tooth Fairy, right?
I think she bought it. At the very least she was amped to get a dollar and I’m certainly not above buying joy for my children. However, the issue of the tooth still remained. I couldn’t just go in there and grab it. That would raise the question of what I was going to do with it and possibly what the Tooth Fairy does with it. The answer to both is put it in the trash. I don’t know how many people there are out there who save baby teeth, but if you’re one of them, I need to you know that you’re a total weirdo. Keeping things that fall off of or out of bodies isn’t something a sane parent does. It’s something a serial killer does. Sure, there could be some overlap in that Venn diagram. But if there is, see my previous statement about being a total weirdo.
Anywho, the next night after she was asleep I went into her room and took the tooth and left a penny. I thought about leaving some kind of clever note, but I didn’t want to risk her noticing that the Tooth Fairy has the same crappy penmanship as dad. So I just left the penny. Why a penny? I don’t really know. Just seemed like something to do I suppose. And she actually got a kick out of it. So now I feel like anything is in play for where and what kind of money the Tooth Fairy leaves. Between my three kids there is still a whole lot of teeth to be lost around here. This time it was a shoe and a follow up penny, maybe next time it will be a three quarters frozen in an ice cube and one quarter taped to their forehead. My kids are pretty sound sleepers, I think I could pull that off.
Maybe dad isn’t a terrible Tooth Fairy after all. Maybe he’s a revolutionary Tooth Fairy. A visionary. A breath of fresh air into the B-list of imaginary figures. If you’re wondering, the A-list is Santa and the boyfriend/girlfriend from Canada/another school who you wouldn’t know but is super hot. Perhaps I won’t revolutionize what is essentially a black market for children’s teeth, but at least I made up for my stereotypically terrible mistake. And maybe I will bake a dollar into a bran muffin next time anyway. Just for fun.
I Think Therefore I Dad 