Like a vulture, perched atop a street light, waiting for something to die, so our intrepid Toothfairy has been once again hovering over Cailey.
If you last recall, Cailey is the child who refuses to part with anything of a personal nature. And that includes stray Polly Pocket shoes, and her teeth.
For the last 3 months, Cailey has had another loose tooth. Thankfully, this one was an unobtrusive bottom tooth, so it was fairly easy for us to ignore. Unlike her last tooth trauma, where one lone loose front tooth moved to the middle of her mouth. And flapped in the breeze whenever she spoke.
However, when the latest loose tooth turned completely around and lay down in defiance, while accumulating rotting chicken nuggets underneath, the Toothfairy could stand it no longer.
I had been begging and pleading for the last week with the stubborn child to let me pull it out. At one point Cailey did give me permission to yank it out while she slept. Right. Like I would brave a trip to the top bunk, only to be thrown off to my death by a sleeping child with a thirst for violence.
So at last the weary Toothfairy whispered to Fiddledaddy, “The tooth, it must come out.” And then she flitted nearby to watch the drama unfold. Bribery was the initial tactic. First he offered a dollar (pfffft, she gets that just for yanking it out herself), then the ante was raised to $5, then $20, and on up to $100. Each time she vehemently shook her blonde head NO. When the offer reached a cool million, and she still stood firm, I knew more drastic measure were needed.
Yes, he did what any good Father of the Year material would do. He held her down. Grasped the tooth. And yanked it out.
It was a sight to behold, since Cailey is a scrappy little thing. There was much screaming, wriggling, scratching and kicking.
I stood well out of the way.
Because I am not stupid.
I’ve never seen Emme so gleeful. Watching someone inflict torture on her little sister for a change.
The tooth came out very easily. Since it is my belief that the only thing holding it in place was rotting chicken nugget.
Fiddledaddy held her and apologized for the drastic measures that were necessary to avoid a future orthodontia nightmare.
She quieted quickly, studied the tooth, and said rather gaily, “WELL. I’m sure glad that’s over with.”
I was relegated the unsavory task of cleaning the tooth, and then placing it in the requisite snack baggy, labeled “Cailey’s tooth”.
As she was later climbing the ladder to her bunk bed, she whispered to me, “I’m glad Daddy got the tooth out.”
She placed the tooth under her pillow, close enough to the railing so that the Toothfairy wouldn’t break a femur climbing up to the top bunk.
But a little later she climbed back down and came in search of me.
“Mom, tell the Toothfairy not to take my tooth tonight, I want to show it to everyone.”
Because it’s a well known fact that I have a direct line to the Toothfairy. And Santa Claus. And Carrabbas.
Frankly, I’m just glad that our Toothfairy has a trusty sidekick named Fiddledaddy, who isn’t afraid to risk death or dismemberment when the job gets dangerous.