Can we talk about teeth and how weird it is that they fall out? How much weirder it is that a tiny fairy flies into our kids’ room at night, gets as close to their sleeping faces as a pillow permits to intentionally steal their tooth, leaving behind quarters- dollars if lucky? Does it bother anyone else that we tell our kids to be aware of strangers but willingly invite small pixies to invade their dental dreams in exchange for homeless toofers?
Whoever came up with the tooth fairy concept is a freakin’ genius. And a parent’s worst nightmare.
When Tanner lost his first tooth, Sugar entered the scene. Because his tooth fairy thinks it’s rude to steal his teeth without getting to know him first. So the two have become pen-pals. Which is sorta sweet being that over the next few years they’ll have a give-and-take-relationship. Perhaps tooth fairies are the gateway to dating.
Sugar shares about herself, and asks Tanner questions. With every lost tooth, he grabs her previous letter- sparkly and glittery – from his galvanized rain-gutter bin. He responds to every question and asks more about her.
HE.IS.ALL ABOUT IT.
He’s buying Sugar’s story and Bry and I are dying as he runs in, early morning, waving the note, and telling us about how Sugar was recently gardening and a rose bush nearly ate her.
Unbeknownst to him, the drawer near his feet, the one holding all my socks, is hiding the letter he wrote Sugar the night before.
This is when parenting is just too good.
Last week he lost a tooth at school, came home in whirlwind rush, ran to his desk, and madly wrote to his beloved tooth fairy, Sugar, anticipating her visit.
Mom, guess what Sugar is bringing me tonight? A poke-ball! Look, he holds up her last letter. She told me she would.
Oh…Did…She? I ask in slow motion, silently adding buy Poke Ball to the to-do list.
After he went to bed, checking (for the 58th time) to make sure the letter and tooth were in visible sight for his purple, glitter-drenched tooth fairy to find, he tossed and turned.
And tossed and turned.
And Bry and I are listening down the hall for him to fall sleep so Bry can dash out and find said Poke Ball (on behalf of Sugar, of course) and 2 freaking hours later, our exhausted Tanner comes out, near tears because he’s so dang tired.
I just can’t sleep. I’m trying but I can’t fall asleep.
Are you so excited for Sugar to come? I ask.
Yes, he turns snotty and red.
Being a kid is hard when you’re excited for something to come and you know you have to fall asleep for it to actually happen but the more you try, the more frustrated you get. It’s like Christmas, people. Tooth fairy visits are like Christmas Eve at the Pogue Cottage.
And what finally seems like midnight, he sleeps, and Bry escapes to Target, and my phone rings to hear, No, wifey who thinks this whole Sugar idea is fun, no they DO.NOT.HAVE.POKE.BALLS.
So rude, Target. Don’t you know we have an agreement for these situations- I buy everything from you, and in return, you show up when we need random items for urgent events like an abandoned eye tooth.
So we caved. We bowed to Sugar’s story and Amazon Primed two poke balls for next day delivery. Sugar responded to Tanner’s letter with all the energy her wee plum-hued-sparkly-fairy-ness could contain and told Tanner, Be on the lookout for a special porch delivery tomorrow.
And when the box arrived, I doused that bad boy in glue and glitter and wrote Tanner’s name to match the purple marker in Sugar’s curly-cue font, and when Tanner ran up the walkway from school, it was as if the heaven’s opened.
She came, he beamed.
She always does, I smiled.
And that my friends, is the story of a boy and his tooth fairy.