Channeling My Inner Tooth Fairy

I have no problem admitting that I am a lousy tooth fairy. Now that I have said it, I actually feel better. I can channel my inner Santa Claus and my inner Easter Bunny. But for the life of me, I can’t channel my inner tooth fairy. 

I would like to say that this isn’t totally my fault, but I don’t know. Tyler has lost six teeth so far and has a loose one now, which makes me want to break out in a sweat. He swallowed two of those six teeth. Yes, he is a gifted child and he had to leave notes under his pillow explaining what happened.  As a side note, I refused to check to see if those teeth ever turned up you know where.

I never seem to have a dollar or two around when needed and Tyler asks too many questions about the process that leaves me fumbling for an answer. For example: “Why don’t we leave food for the tooth fairy? Santa gets cookies and the Easter Bunny gets carrots.” I will admit that is a very good question. I tell him that she just isn’t hungry. What I want to say is that she would be over the moon to find a pint of Ben and Jerry’s Peanut Butter Cup under his pillow, as I know for a fact that is her favorite. “What does she do with my teeth?” I tell him that she puts them in a special box. I am sure it would crush him to know they are stuffed in the back of my underwear drawer.

Then there was the time that he lost a tooth while we were having dinner with friends. He placed the tooth in a baggie and gave it to me for safe keeping. Later that night, before putting him to bed, I checked my wallet and as luck would have it, there were no dollars to be found. My husband didn’t have any either. Not to worry, I am resourceful. I snuck into Tyler’s room while he was in the bathroom and took a $1 from his piggy bank. I tucked him in and assured him that the tooth fairy would visit during the night. Then I watched TV in bed waiting for him to fall asleep. But of course, I fell asleep first. You guessed it, an exchange was never made.

The next morning, Tyler came down for breakfast, with sad eyes, holding the baggie with his tooth in it. “Did I do something wrong? She didn’t come.” I fought back the horror I felt and wish I could have taken a picture of my husband’s face. I assured Tyler that he hadn’t done anything wrong and that she probably went to the wrong house. When he left for soccer with his dad and sister, I wrote a note, in disguised handwriting, from the Tooth Fairy. I explained that I had gone to the wrong house and was so sorry to have made him worry. Then I cleverly said for your troubles I am leaving you with an extra $1. Yes, then I went back into the piggy bank and got another $1. Basically, I robbed piggy to pay Tyler twice in less than a 24 hour period. I changed his sheets, left the goods under the pillow and went to Target.

When we all returned home, I told Tyler that while I was changing his sheets, I found something under his pillow. He ran upstairs, found the note and money and ran to show us. He was happy once again. I was about to breathe easy again when he said, "I want to count all my money." I kept a straight face and said not now, lunch time! You see, I hadn’t asked for cash back at Target, which means I hadn’t paid piggy back. Luckily he accepted that answer, keeping the magic of the Tooth Fairy alive.

Now you can see why I am breaking out in sweat thinking about the next tooth.

True confession of the day: I better get my act together before Molly loses her first tooth, or I will be truly busted.

Final Bid = 300 Meals

Tyler never ceases to amaze me. Last night, his school held an Empty Bowl fundraiser to benefit the Second Harvest Food Bank in Charlotte. Tyler started asking me a couple of weeks ago if I would take him to the event and of course I agreed. Each class at Torrence Creek made a bowl with the help of their talented art teacher for the silent auction portion of the event.  Yesterday morning he asked if I was prepared to bid on his class bowl, I assured him we would place a bid and we would also buy one of the bowls that was for sale.

Our bid of $25 was the second bid on his first grade class bowl. As he began to understand how the bidding worked, he asked me how much money I had to bid. I told him I couldn’t spend more than $50. That is when I saw the gears in his head start turning. He looked at me with his big brown eyes and said, “Would you be willing to bid a $100?” I told him I was sorry but that I couldn’t right now. He responded with, “That’s okay, because I have $100 I could spend.” I know I looked puzzled and before I could react, he jumped in with: “Remember I won $200 in the Super Bowl pool at daddy’s work.” This is true and a whole other story that a 7-year-old won his daddy’s office pool.

I was stunned, that he was willing to give up the money, as his original plan was to buy a new baseball bat. If you know my son, the only thing he loves more than baseball is…well I don’t think there is anything. I explained that he could never get the money back. He told me he understood and that there were hungry people who needed the money from the bowl. After calling his dad for a quick consultation and wiping tears from my eyes, I said okay.

That sweet boy kept his eye on the bid sheet, adding $5 here and there as necessary. We also went to talk to the representative from the food bank to help Tyler understand the impact his money could have in the community. We were all a little surprised to find out that $1 provides four meals. His eyes seemed to grow larger by the possibility and he was more determined than ever to win the bowl.  

When the silent auction ended, Tyler was announced as the highest bidder for the bowl made by Mrs. Yearous’ first grade class. He generously and selflessly donated $75 dollars to the food bank, which equals 300 meals (he calculated it on the iPad when we got home).

I am truly proud of my son and pretty humbled to be his mother right now. Not only does he have a kind soul, but he expects nothing for it. He didn’t understand why everyone was hugging him and thanking him. He looked at me and said, “I still have $125 dollars and people can eat.”  

True confession of the day: I wouldn’t have done that when I was 7 years-old.