And for the first time, he questioned the magic. "Maybe the tooth fairy doesn't really exist." When pressed, he wasn't sure where the money might come from or where the teeth might go. Santa Claus made more sense than tooth fairies and Easter bunnies, he decided. (Even though he claimed to have caught a glimpse of said bunny last Sunday.) So I told him about what happened when I was his age and thought the same thing.
I decided to wait up for the fairy. My tooth was in a film canister under my pillow, under my head, and there was no way she (or whoever was masquerading as the tooth fairy) was going to get past me. I struggled to stay vigilant, and in the dark I checked to be sure I could hear the rattle of my little tooth in the plastic. But it was full of coins! And so I was convinced, for a little while longer anyway. Sebastian pointed out that I may have dozed off briefly, but seemed to reconsider.
He didn't want to (or forgot) to leave his teeth for the fairy on Friday night, but remembered to do it last night. After discovering the dollar he received last time still folded neatly inside his tooth pouch, he took his little calcified treasures upstairs to rest on the pillow next to his head.
Cue anxious whispering by his parents:
"Do you have $2?"
"No! Do you?"
"I think I have $1 in my wallet. What should we do?"
"We'll just have to 'borrow' some from their wallets, I guess."
But then we went back to playing Mario and totally forgot.
This morning, more anxious whispering by me at 7:45am to my sleeping husband:
"Did you remember to be the tooth fairy?!"
Shit. Now what? The kids are up. Sebastian has by now discovered that the tooth fairy has neglected to visit. All wallets are downstairs with the children. Panic! Panic!
Piggy banks! Those are upstairs. Who says the tooth fairy only brings bills? She certainly didn't when I was a kid.
Whose stupid idea was it anyway to have the kids take their change to the CoinStar machine?! (Mine.) The total from the 2 banks was a whopping $1.76. There was another 15 cents on our dresser. Jeremy told me to check his underwear drawer, but that only yielded his neckties, an "I heart Styx" button and some marbles. (It's better not to ask.)
Now I had to sneak downstairs to get his wallet with the lonely bill, quietly put the excess change back in the banks, exchange the money for teeth and somehow not get caught. Success!
Being the impatient person I am, when I returned downstairs some 45 minutes later I asked if the tooth fairy had come. "She didn't," Sebastian sadly replied. "She forgot."
"That's not possible. I have heard of her having trouble in bad weather, but not forgetting entirely. Are you sure she didn't come?"
"Yes. I checked when I woke up and my teeth were still there and there was no money."
"Hmm. That's odd. I wonder if she came and saw there were 2 teeth and had to go back for more money. She probably was only expecting one tooth. I'm sure she'll come."
"That's a good idea, Mom. I did hold onto that other tooth for a long time."
Lo and behold, when he checked a few minutes later, the money was there... but short one dime. Argh! Will this nightmare never end? I told him to check his bed and retrace his steps from his room to where the tooth pouch was now on the dining table, scrambled into the kitchen to get a dime from my wallet to throw on the floor next to the table and vowed not to worry about it when Jeremy wondered how I would explain it when Sebastian finds the original dime later.