The Tooth Fairy Did Time

The Tooth Fairy Did Time

I’m in my forties and watching my daughter read from a page.

I’m watching Sadie read to us. She had lost a tooth, her grandparents were visiting, and she wanted to share the letter her tooth fairy had delivered.

My children’s tooth fairy left notes and, you could ask questions, and the return note would include an answer. My children had a light pen-pal relationship with it/her. The tooth fairy is, well, to put it mildly, hungry. Hungry for teeth. She needed them to build, and this was always mentioned as her aspiration, “The Mighty Tooth Castle.” This structure was never fully described but was enormous, modern, dark, or whatever, but each child’s tooth is added somewhere “where it will look snazzy.”

The tooth fairy had an antagonist: The Easter Bunny. Teeth with holes were not acceptable to the tooth fairy as there were already plenty of those in the dark below. The tooth fairy had a difficult history as she’d (suggested) a child use pliers to speed the process, and (suggested), might have paid the price. Most notes tended to follow a basic structure. Greet the child, tell a very bad joke, maybe a peek into her interiors, where the tooth would be placed, and a contractual language structure where you are clear that your tooth, in current conditions, has received maximum value/money.

She’s reading this note well and we’re all entertained. We’re getting to where the tooth is going to be placed. She’s in front of us, and fortunately, close to me. I can’t see the paper. She’s struggling with a word: jacuzzi. I finally say “jacuzzi” and she pops up with surprised, incredulous eyes, until I quickly added “at least that’s what’s showing through the paper.”