When Beka lost another tooth yesterday morning, she was so excited that she put it directly under her pillow.
Then, we did a major room cleaning in which we organized drawers, threw away tons of old junk – ahem, toys -, and stripped the bed to wash the sheets.
It wasn’t until it was all finished and we were sitting on the couch, happily reveling in our sucesses of the day that I realized what had happened.
“Beka, where did you put your tooth this morning?”
“Under my pill…. OH NO!” And, my sweet six year old burst into tears! “Now I won’t get a dollar! It is lost, gone forever….” (Beka excels in the dramatic)
This reaction somewhat surprised me because I thought she knew that I am the tooth fairy. Apparently, she doesn’t.
“It’s okay,” I said, soothingly as I took her into my lap. “I will just call the tooth fairy and let her know what happened. She will still come.” I was grasping, here.
She brightened up a bit. “You know her phone number?!?”
“Of course! And I will call her as soon as you go to bed.” This seemed to work, and she reminded me as I tucked her into bed last night. “Don’t forget to call the tooth fairy, Mama.”
So last night, after she fell asleep, I crept up to her room and did the tooth fairy thing.
This morning, I was greeted by this:
Usually in our house, the tooth fairy is a bum. But, last night, she redeemed herself big time.
Three cheers for the tooth fairy!