So I was getting ready for work the first morning after the tooth fairy's first visit to our house when I heard Zoe crying and crying. "What's wrong?" I asked my husband.
He says "I don't know."
I went to Zoe's bed. The tooth case was out, the dollar on the sheets, and Zoe was sobbing.
"Look, the tooth fairy left you a dollar!" I said, or something of the sort. Zoe just kept crying. I cuddled her until she could stop crying enough to speak.
"My teeth are gone!" She said. She didn't want to even look at the dollar.
Unclear on the concept, I think.
"But, that's what the tooth fairy does. You give her the tooth, and she gives you money for it."
"I want my teeth back!" Zoe cried.
"Why? What do you want them for?"
"I want to play with them!"
I truly don't care if the tooth fairy ever visits the house again. I don't feel comfortable lying to Zoe anyway. It seems to me that in childhood we tell our children there's a God, Tooth Fairy, and (sometimes) Santa Claus and Easter Bunny. Then when they grow up we tell them we were lying about all but the first of those. I wish we could be honest, but there's too much social pressure not to be.
And I don't care if she has the teeth or not. Ugly small bloody things. I'm glad we didn't throw them out. She can have them. But how to maintain the lie?
"Maybe if you write the tooth fairy a note, she'll give them back to you...."
We make up stories about maybe today when Zoe's in school, Daddy can find the teeth in the woods where the fairy hid them. By evening we decide to put some shiny sequins in the tooth box to buy back the teeth. (Zoe rejects the notion of giving back the dollar.) But when bedtime comes, the tooth case is lost. Now it's Monday night, and I haven't heard anything else about the teeth.