It was going to happen, just a matter of time.
Hanna came home from school yesterday with the coveted treasure box.
You would have to be living under a rock if you didn’t know that the mini-treasure chest meant there was a blood and/or lint covered tooth inside.
Hanna was excited to show off her tooth to visiting Grandparents, her siblings, Greg and I, while I readied myself for a rare holiday party.
By the time I got home from the event, the kids were asleep, I was exhausted and surprisingly peckish despite having eaten my weight in chocolate dipped strawberries.
I fell asleep quickly, never once giving any thought to the angelic, nine year old sleeping soundly oblivious to the sharp, goldfish cracker encrusted, fang poking her through her pillow case.
Breakfast the next morning was as usual–busy. Trying to organize the girl’s lunch bags, encouraging them to get dressed, comb their hair, brush their teeth and make their beds.
Ellie wandered down the hall half asleep and said, “My tooth is really loose, I think it’s ready to come out.”
Oh. My. God. Hanna’s Tooth!
Hanna sat at the table mesmerized by whatever morning program had captured her attention on the tv and didn’t hear Ellie’s announcement.
I ran to my purse to scour for change, “please God have two dollars, please God have two dollars” I was chanting in my head. At least I thought it was in my head, I’m pretty sure it was as loud as the sound of all of my change falling onto the floor and me scrambling after the strays.
Grandpa: Well Ellie, maybe the…..
Don’t say it! Do not mention the Tooth Fairy before I have the chance to race into Hanna’s room, collect the tooth, scrub my hands and deposit her money.
Grandpa: Well Ellie, maybe the loose tooth will….
Stop talking Grandpa! I’m running as fast as I can.
If he says the words Tooth and/or Fairy, Hanna will sprint to her bed and I know she’s faster than I am. It’ll be one of those rare tackle-your-kid-in-the-hallway episodes. I was left with no choice.
I made it to her room, tossed the money in a dramatic fairy dust sprinkle, grabbed the tooth and bolted.
Sweat now pouring from my forehead and gasping for breath, “Hanna, have you checked under your pillow to see if the Tooth Fairy paid you a visit last night?” I’m Mrs. Cool now, this moments after I had lost the ability to see solid shapes or patterns.
She continued to eat her blueberries in slow motion, as breezy about her approach to getting ready as she was about the fact she might have just made $2 and stripped me of my coffee money for doing absolutely nothing.
I knew I would one day forget.
It was only a matter of time.
