The Toothfairy is requesting a transfer

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.

Unnerving.

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.

No thanks.

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.”

Allrightythen.

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.

deedeesig

13 Responses to The Toothfairy is requesting a transfer

  • You can’t expect her to just give up without a good show. Because then what would you have to blog about?

    It’s a public service, really.

    (And Fiddledaddy is a brave, brave man.)

  • I would like the same transfer please. Preferrably to somewhere warm and spa-like.

    My oldest just started losing teeth. I always thought my run as a tooth fairy would be filled with celebrations and oohing and aahing over loose teeth. But instead it is filled with drama and panic and “DONT COME NEAR MY MOUTH”.

    No thank you. I am about ready to tell her the whole thing is a sham and skip it already.

  • You go Cailey!!!

    She is a mirror of my younger self! My poor mother had to use all manner of force to remove the dangling teeth from my mouth!

    And now, in a funny twist of fate, my oldest daughter DELIGHTS in ripping out loose teeth! Oh, and she doesn’t like my world famous brownies….sometimes I wonder if she’s mine! 😀

  • My first grade class lost a total of 64 teeth during the past school year. We played that drama out over and over and over! (And the day Scott lost BOTH his front teeth in one day? Shut the class down for the entire afternoon.) Well done, Fiddledaddy!

  • Reminds me of when our youngest needed blood drawn repeatedly and developed a fear of it. The lab technicians at our local clinic actually refused to take blood before his surgery because he was so upset. Once we got to the children’s hospital, the technicians matter-of-factly ignored the screaming and flailing, held him down and got it done in a flash. He was as relieved as I was when it was over.

  • Best line of the post, hands down: “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.” Hilarious!

    Worst thing that happened for us was when my daughter lost a tooth whilst I was out of town and the the male version of the tooth fairy forgot to do his thing. Dear daughter was ever-so-surprised to find her tooth still there the next morning and NO CASH. Someone will NEVER live that down.

  • “Like a vulture, perched atop a street light, waiting for something to die, so our intrepid Toothfairy has been once again hovering over Cailey.”

    You’ve written some mighty clever (read interchangeably: snort-inducing-hysterical) things on your blog, but this, in my humble opinion, is second only to your title, “Thanks Be to the Lard.”

    Thank you. Oh, sweet laughter, thank you!

  • My youngest will yank out a perfectly good tooth for a dollar. Sometimes she brings me one and I have to ask her if it was loose.
    It was, but at the first wiggle, she works it until it comes free.
    One time I thought there was still root left on one. The dentist assures me she could not pull out a healthy tooth, but she doesn’t really know how strong willed my daughter is, either.
    Now that I think about it, maybe we just need to up her allowance.

    Nahh…

  • Way to go Fiddledaddy~ We all need a brave knight in shiny armour to rescue us from ourselves!!

  • I am laughing out loud and told RockyDaddy that he needs to read this post. It could SO be our family, just switch the characters (except that you are a far superior writer). You write so well that you make me laugh at you and ourselves! (RockyA has a little treasure box full of about 5 teeth. She won’t part with them either. And each tooth was a dramatic event).

  • FD – you da man!!

    Can you rent him out? My 10 yr old has managed to get out of a 3 person pile on with no luck.

  • Oh my, such drama. hee hee. This reminded me of our youngest son’s first tooth loss. It required pliers, just because those little teeth are slippery. But he settled down once Daddy got a hold of him.