Alexander lost a tooth Friday night. He was sleeping over at a friend’s house so he brought the tooth back home in a plastic bag and put it under his pillow Saturday night.
If his parents didn’t suck, Sunday would have been a great morning. I thought my husband had it covered, he assumed I did.
Instead, my boy was a little out of sorts Sunday morning, and as I was hugging him, I heard the crinkle of plastic in his pajama pocket.
“Oh Alexander, did The Tooth Fairy forget to come?” I asked him, horrified.
Alexander did this thing with his cheeks where he sucks them in a little and tries to keep from showing any real emotion. I wanted him to cry so we could fix it, but he tried to hard to keep from showing his disappointment that it about killed me. He nodded and crawled into my lap for a snuggle.
“I’m so sorry Alexander, Mommy forgot to text the Tooth Fairy. I’ll let her know now, and I’m sure she’ll get to you tonight.” I assured him.
At some point during the day yesterday the Tooth Fairy came and left a note that read:
Your Mom just texted me and told me that you’d lost a tooth. I use them to build my castle and I could really use a shiny white one for my chimney so I came right away.
Thank you for sharing your tooth with me.
The Tooth Fairy
I took the tooth, and stuck that under his pillow.
My husband was upset with me. “Don’t you know he wanted to wake up to that?” He asked me.
“I was trying to salvage today, I wasn’t worried about tomorrow.” I replied. “You blew it too.” (I’m not above finger pointing when necessary).
“He wasn’t upset that the Tooth Fairy forgot. He was upset because he’s starting to not believe.” and then he looked for something on the ceiling, he does that a lot, but I’m not sure what it could have been.
Alexander is okay today, but how do I ask him if he believes?
17 thoughts on “Worst Mother Ever: And The Tooth Fairy Too”
Our family takes the stance, “Some families believe, some don’t, ours does.” End of story. :) I sometimes go a bit into the magic and all that… sometimes it’s not necessary.
Our toothfairy forgot one night… and remember early in the morning as she noticed the glass in the windowsill… quick thinking barely saved the day.
That’s the problem with being human… We make mistakes.
How did the laser work out? I’m still thinking about getting one for myself.
When my kids ask me if things like the tooth fairy exist, I tell them this: There are things in the world that exist because we believe in them. The most important of these things is love. As long as you believe in love, it exists. As soon as you stop believing, it doesn’t.
They seem, even at a very young age, to understand that for some of the more amorphous things in life, they play a role, whether it be believing in the tooth fairy, in kindness or in love.
Our tooth fairy has forgotten also, and more than once. Unfortunately it seems to happen to one child more than others. I have always said it was my fault for not calling the tooth fairy to remind her. Now the kids remind me to call as they are going to bed. Not even one of them has questioned whether she still exists and my oldest are 13. Same with Santa. Maybe they are just going along with it for the younger ones, either way I am not complaining.
Even though I knew from my very first lost tooth that the tooth fairy was not an actual fairy but instead my mom or dad (don’t ask how i knew – i dont remember who spoiled it for me, it was a very long time ago…), i still “believed” in the tooth fairy. And Santa Claus. And the Easter Bunny. (And I’m Jewish!). I’m with @Jamie and @Susan – about these childhood myths, if you believe, it’s real. And I hope to imbue my son with the same blind faith.
Because if you’re the “worst mom ever,” they’re going to have to come up with a whole new paradigm to describe me….
Well, I think you already know that I burst my girls’ bubbles a long time ago, but the beauty is, we all still play along! To me, it’s even more special this way.
You are not alone. My kids laugh now at how many times the tooth fairy took 2 or even 3 nights to reach them, because she “was sooo busy.”
We are all terrible mothers. NOT.
Awww it’s part of growing up. And it sucks :-(
My son decided he wanted his teeth back and wrote a letter to the tooth fairy asking for them. He was so serious that he planned on setting a trap for the tooth fairy.
We had a long discussion about how he was going to capture the fairy and what would happen afterwards. Just as we finished he asked me what I would do if I got caught in his trap.
I smiled and said that I didn’t know what he was talking about. He never did catch me and I never have fessed up about it all.
We made it through first two lost teeth swimmingly, then my 6 yo’s best friend blew the whistle on the Tooth Fairy. I was so afraid they’d fight about it (“there is NOT a tooth fairy!” “Is TOO!” “Is NOT!” etc) that I confirmed that in fact, there is no tooth fairy. But promised him there would still be a surprise for him under his pillow anyway, from his dad and me. WHICH WE FORGOT TO DO. Double whammy, and many more teeth to go. Crappity crap.
You don’t ask. They want to be cool but they really want to believe.
Our friend Sarah, 6, was rummaging through her dad’s dresser drawer and she discovered the collection of baby teeth. Meg, her mom, heard her racing down three flights of stairs, screaming, “Where’s Jim?!?! The *&$# ! He’s been ripping off the Tooth Fairy!”
Since Meg had to address the issue of “school bus language” with her daughter, the issue of “is there or isn’t there a tooth fairy” was safely averted that time!
You are far, far, far from the worst mother ever. Selfishly i love this post though, as I always assume that stay at home mamas do everything perfectly all the time and that working mamas have a monopoly on forgetful fairies and running late and getting the date wrong for the play and showing up without a gift and oh does the list go on. Glad to have a glimpse into tooth fairy-ville as my daughter has some wiggly ones. Like Jack’s kid, she’s totally the type who will want her teeth back at some point.
My exasperated daughter wrote a letter reporting the tooth fairy to the Board of Tooth Fairies, because “she” forgot to pick up her tooth so many times. We told her sometimes an overworked tooth fairy, must adjust her day and was probably certain that our daughter would be able to cope with the delay.
In my opinion, you don’t need to ask him. He will figure it out on his own. I say, let him have the magic for as long as possible. When he is old enough to understand it’s not real, he’ll be old enough to understand the reason we create those stories for kids.
I think I was lucky, because by the time I figured it out (for me, it started with Santa), I had two baby sisters. I was in 3rd or 4th grade and had been questioning it for a while, and when I finally figured it out, I went to my mom and confronted her about it in a funny, sarcastic sort of way. And I didn’t feel disappointed at all, but I wonder if it’s because I knew I could continue the magic with my sisters.
Up until the day we all moved out of the house, my mom STILL hid Easter baskets and STILL signs Christmas gifts “Santa.” When you ask her where she got a certain gift, she’ll say, “I didn’t buy that gift, Santa brought it.” This would be creepy, but my mom is a swearing, drinking, sarcastic lady, so I find it kind of cute.
And PS: Gina works for LA DCFS. You’re lucky I like you, otherwise, I would turn you IN. ;-)
You don’t tell him. If he asks, then you can answer.
Joel used to type up tiny teeny weeny letters from the tooth fairy for Jenny (printed in PINK, of course) and he even made me buy pink glitter so he could spread some fairy dust around. Sweet brother, huh?
Miss hearing from you–
Kids make this adjustment on their own without much trouble. I think the thing is not to go overboard trying to “convince” them. You don’t want to verge into becoming an unreliable source of information, especially as they get older. When my kids first asked me if things like the Tooth Fairy were “real” I said, “it’s real as long as you believe it’s real.” As they’ve gotten older (and seem to know the score) they’ve pressed a bit more, so now I say, “It’s real if *you want to believe* it’s real.” To me, that translates to: “I’ll play this game as long as you want to.” Which really is “the truth.” So far, they want to keep playing :)
I wonder what things would be like if parents spent their time teaching their children real-world concepts instead of trying so desperately to prolong ridiculous fantasy just for the sake of it.