Becoming Tooth Fairy

I was the “Tooth Fairy” again tonight—for the 6th time over the last few months. Coming down the stairs after my secret duty was finished, I had one of those I-am-really-a-Mom moments. I am not just pretending or playing house. I’ve been one for 6 years now but every now and then I am blindsided by the reality of it. I think why I was struck so this particular night is that I am actually getting pretty good at being the Tooth Fairy---stealthful almost, not interrupting her slumber in any way, not even when I trip over her Crocs or books. This time I didn’t debate all night about how much money to slip under her satin covered pillow and I knew exactly how many times to fold the dollar bill so it would fit perfectly into the little pocket on her Tooth Fairy pillow. I even pressed the miniature tooth between my lips so I didn’t misplace it in the dark while I performed my undercover task. After slipping out the door into the hall, wishing for the hundredth time I would remember to WD-40 the hinges, I thought, “How did this happen? I am 37 and I am doing the Tooth Fairy thing without even blinking.” This is big stuff and it’s completely real.

Then I thought of Julia’s reality—this is what “six years old” is made of: wiggling teeth with her tongue late into the night until she falls asleep or until it comes out, developing new ways to eat her favorite foods, being so excited about yet another gaping hole in her mouth, waking up to money under her pillow, having people notice her toothless grin, hearing words come out of her mouth that don’t sound quite like they did the day before. Very big stuff and very real.

I only get to leave money and Trident under their pillows for a short time, never again to play any sort of fairy. I don’t even know how long teeth will be falling out, but I know there will be an end to this charade soon. I am finding out all too quickly, every season comes to a close. It is only on the other side do I realize how quickly. No more worrying that I will forget to do my duty before I turn in for the night, no more searching for 1 dollar bills at 11:00 pm, no more sneaking around in the dark, no more reaching under the pillow wondering how far in did she place her little pink gingham pillow, and no more early morning excitement about such small treasures. That may be the worst of it. I don’t think there is a barometer that could contain and measure “6 year old” excitement. So for a few more weeks, I get to hear lispy words with a runaway tongue and for a few more years, I get to tip toe around in the dark slipping dollars and gum under pillows. I am Momma. I am the Tooth Fairy.