tooth fairy busted Archives - Circles in the SandCircles in the Sand

My boys started getting suspicious about the Tooth Fairy quite some time ago, and set up a sting operation that led them to pronounce the Tooth Fairy busted. When one of them lost a tooth, they didn’t say anything and left it under the pillow for several days to see if any money appeared. After three days of non-payments, they let on and I told them the Tooth Fairy didn’t come because she was scared of the dog. “Yeah, right,” said Son1, rolling his eyes. “Tooth Fairy busted!” “Look, here’s a picture of her – in another child’s bedroom,” I said, pointing at a photo on my phone I’d quickly Googled. “Fake news,” Son1 declared. Fast-forward to today and the situation has become even more of a charade. Despite being disbelievers, they STILL tuck any lost teeth under the pillow for personal profit (the little mercenaries!). And for various reasons – travel, jet lag, but mainly because it’s school holidays and I’m going to bed before the kids – a tooth has been awaiting collection for almost a week. I was at work this afternoon when Son1’s WhatsApp came through: “Don’t forget to bring my tooth money tonight. It is still waiting under my pillow” The TOOTH, of course (facepalm!)! The reminder dropped into my brain like a stone into water. What a monumentally rubbish Tooth Fairy I was. I started typing a reply along the lines of, “Well, the Tooth Fairy only visits children who go to bed BEFORE MIDNIGHT”, and was about to hit send when my phone pinged again. “U could of done it last night while I was still downstairs u know” Okay, hint taken! Tonight will be the night I remember to “cash it in”.

“Don’t tell Mummy!” Son2 glanced at his brother and stifled a laugh as my curiosity grew. He brought his index finger to his mouth. “Shhh.”

“Don’t tell Mummy what?” I asked, deeply suspicious.

Hopeless at keeping a secret, Son2 then proceeded to tell me anyway: he’d lost a tooth. I peered into his mouth, and there was indeed a new gap, next to a huge front tooth that still looks oversized in comparison to his milk teeth.

The end of a chapter in our lives

“Tooth fairy tonight,” I said brightly.

“But mum,” said Son1, from the other side of the lounge, where he was playing on his computer. He pulled his headsets off to actually join in the conversation. “THE TOOTH FAIRY IS FAKE!”

I stalled for time, considering whether just to come clean. To be honest, it would have been a relief. My mind was already trying to figure out whether I had any small notes in the house, and I’m over remembering, exhausted, at 2 in the morning that I need to play tooth fairy. But if I admitted she wasn’t real, wouldn’t they then immediately clock that we’ve been lying about the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus too? It was a slippery slope I didn’t feel quite ready to go down, so I replied, “Of course she’s real. Why weren’t you going to tell me about the tooth anyway?”

“Because the tooth fairy is daddy,” said Son1, pinning his gaze on DH on the other sofa. “That’s why we weren’t going to tell you – if the tooth was still under the pillow in the morning, then we’d know for sure we’re right. William’s tooth stayed under his pillow for three days before he finally told his parents and then he got money.”

“What makes you think it’s daddy?” I asked, my nose twitching with the effort of staying deadpan.

“Because,” said Son1 as though it was completely obvious, “the last time he forgot. When we came downstairs in the morning and said the tooth fairy hadn’t been, daddy quickly said ‘Here, hold this,’ and gave me his plate while he ran upstairs to put money under the pillow.”

“Ah, yes.” I gave a small cough. I remembered the incident well.

“And,” Son1 continued, rolling his eyes, “daddy left the tooth under the pillow.”

I think that’s us just about rumbled! Best-case scenario now is that the Santa myth is hanging by a single crimson thread.