Wednesday, December 11, 2013

The Tooth Fairy Suffers from Short Term Memory Loss

When your children start losing teeth like a rabbit leaves droppings, you’re bound to forget every now and again. But the one time I forgot, my child gave me the sad doe eyes and I immediately felt like I had thrown all of his favorite action figures straight into the garbage disposal to meet their untimely deaths. So what did I do? Admit that Mommy plays a lot of roles in the house and it’s hard to juggle it all? Or lie through my nice set of pearly whites (thank you, Lord for the wonders of orthodontia)? Well, if you’ve read anything I have posted thus far, you know the answer to that one. Think fast. Spin a tale. Lie like your life depended on it.

Here is how the scene played out:
Me (perfectly dressed with all hairs in place ala June Cleaver, enters my son’s room): Gray, it’s time to get up, buddy. School time!

Gray (bleary-eyed, hair looking like squirrels made camp during the night, drool all over the just-washed sheets reaches for the bird that holds his tooth): Mom, the tooth fairy didn’t come. (Insert super sad eyes here)

Me (thinking I should’ve had more coffee before I tried to wake this overly-observant child): Really? Are you sure? (Think woman, THINK.) Well, did she leave a note or anything? Maybe she is on vacation.

Gray (skeptical look, certain that his Mom is cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs, certainly thinking that little people like the Tooth Fairy don’t get vacations): Does the tooth fairy go on vacation? Where would she go? Doesn’t she have a back-up?

Me (Seriously. A back up plan? Who are you? Bill Gates? Colin Powell?): Yeah, that might be it. I bet she is on vacation. Let’s get to school and I will see if I can find an email address for her. Maybe she just had too many houses to visit last night and didn’t make it to ours.

I dropped my sweet, overly curious child off at school (must find a way to kill that questioning nonsense). And then I spent the rest of my commute contemplating how to change the world for the better; how I could start my own non-profit to give back to the less fortunate; and what sort of straight from scratch, gourmet meal I’d be whipping up after a long day at work. Of course I did all that. NOT. I spent the rest of the drive conniving and scheming on how I could get out of the big mess I had made. Vacation?? Did I really just suggest the tooth fairy was on vacation? Geez, not my best work.

Fast forward a few hours. Forget the meetings I halfway listened to and the assignments I’m not sure I ever wrote down – I figured out my plan. I wrote two letters. I made plans on where to hide and deliver them. Then I left work EARLY to get home before my kids to put my plan in play.
First, our lovely tooth fairy DID indeed go on vacation. And she sent George, our other imaginary friend and loving Christmas elf, to do the dirty work. Well, apparently George only really likes making mischief, throwing toilet paper all over the house, and relaxing in marshmallow hot tubs. He left Gray a note in the shape of an airplane hidden behind his bed. But in order to find the hidden note (silly elf), Jesse, the tooth fairy had to send Gray a note from her vacation. And it had to come a long way so I had to wrinkle it up, put a real stamp on it, step on it a few times, and put it in the mail. Sounds elaborate, right? Well, I don’t call myself Mom of the Year for nothing. Though I do keep hearing the cha-ching of counselor bills in my head.

Here is the letter from Jesse, the Tooth Fairy:

I found the letter in the mail and promptly delivered it to Gray. He read it, looked at me and replied, “Wow.” Yep, I’m just that good. Here is the letter he found with $5 (I had to pay extra for being such a liar) from George:

It’s a Christmas miracle, people! Gray was floored that his Mom actually knew that tooth fairies take vacation and that George, our elf, plays some part in the whole tooth fairy madness. I’ll accept that Mother of the Year trophy anytime now. I already have a speech prepared. Trust me. 

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