I’m not the bake-sale mum with perfect coiffed hair. I’d eat all the cakes, would rather endure Celine Dion on constant loop than attend football practice and my hair is decidely un-’coiffable’.
However, to go as far as admit that I am in fact the mum who cannot, for the life of her, remember to put the tooth fairy money under her kids’ pillow when they lose a tooth…E-V-E-R. Well…I’m about to admit that (as well as give you five reasons you can use if you ever need to explain why the tooth fairy never came…you’re welcome).
“She’s joking right?” you ask. Oh, but I’m not. In my pathetic defence, although I was born and bred in the UK, am more British comedy series than Bollywood drama, prefer a Sunday roast to a curry (I know, shocker right?) and own a ridiculous amount of Union Jack items from oven gloves to shoes, I did nevertheless grow up in an Indian household. We just didn’t do the tooth fairy ritual so I guess it’s a culture difference thing. I could double-check with my siblings to see if they remember it differently but I’m quite sure we didn’t get anything when we lost a tooth. Apart from a ugly gap in the mouth.
So, let me take you through the fiasco of my son finally losing his first tooth, aged seven.
He had excitedly placed his tooth under the pillow – BIG moment – and I wished him and the girls goodnight, making a mental note to fetch a coin once he was asleep. I went back down, told Hubster about the tooth and…promptly forgot about it myself. Ironically, I forgot because after cleaning up the kitchen, I got busy writing a post about what I’ve learned since becoming a mum. Clearly, I must have learned to not put the damned tooth fairy money under the pillow. Honestly, my scatty mother behaviour has become so legendary that an actual newspaper article has been written about me.
Anyway, the following morning I nearly fell out of bed with a pounding heart as I realised the mistake.
My Dreamy D: such an undemanding gentle child (when he’s not tanked up on Asthma meds) for whom the least I could do is remember his tooth fairy money.
No worries, he’ll be fast asleep; I’ll just slip it under the pillow now, I thought…before I heard him in the bathroom sounding very much awake. Cue mini heart attack. Is he kidding me? He chooses this morning as the ONE morning in the whole week to wake up early, instead of being dead to the world like he normally is?! Then I thought No problem, he’s always half asleep first thing; there’s no way he’s noticed the lack of silver under the pillow. My sick-to-the-stomach feeling now replaced by calm complacency, I popped my head around the door and smiled as brightly as I could (no easy task as I don’t usually smile til I’ve literally bathed in coffee). I nearly shrank in mortification as my son mustered up his bravest smile, tried to mask his disappointment and said:
“Mama, the tooth fairy never came.”
Quiet, flat, deflated voice. Those huge doe eyes. Go Team Prabs. #MotherOfTheYear.
I crept back into my bedroom, punched myself in the face, briefly considered punching Hubster in the face and told him about the mess-up. His response was “We are sh*t”. What can I say? He’s a man, an Aries man; they’re fairly direct but to be fair, this Aries man had a point. Yet, though I totally agreed with the sh*t verdict and berated myself for my crap parenting, I was cheesed off at the tooth fairy, the Easter bunny and all the other damned myths I have to try to stay on top of. My brain instantly fogged up with panic trying to figure out the right course of action.
In my frustration, I came up with 5 excuses I could give to explain the absence of money i.e. 5 Reasons Why the Tooth Fairy never came.
1) Toothy overslept after a mad night out with Tinkerbull (as Tinkerbell is now known because of her legendary Vodka Redbull consumption)
2) She got stuck in fairy traffic, due to an accident caused by two fairies not looking in their ‘wing’ mirrors
3) Times are tough; even the tooth fairy is affected by the poor Fairy Dollar (FD) exchange rate.
4) Wait, you were expecting money? You know what I used to get when I lost a tooth? Kleenex!
5) Your mother is sh*t
I decided against mentally scarring him any further by using these excuses and instead, the whole situation went down like this:
- I ran downstairs to fetch my wallet only to bump into Musical M (9yo at the time). Is she kidding me? She chooses this morning as the ONE morning in the whole week to wake up early, instead of being dead to the world like she normally is?! Are you detecting the pattern here?
- I hurriedly grabbed some coins. Musical M saw me. So I threw her my look. You know THE look that all of us are suddenly able to do once we become mothers. The “Don’t even think about asking me” look. Not you? Just me? Seriously?!
- I pegged it back upstairs (I swear I never knew I could moved so fast) and bumped into Cheeky K (4yo) who’d climbed out of bed, having also chosen this morning as the ONE morning…you know what, I’m not even going to bother finishing that sentence…
- I literally threw the money under his pillow not realising that Cheeky K was watching. It’s pointless trying to administer THE look to a four year-old upon realising you’ve been rumbled. A hand may have been clamped over her mouth as she started asking me questions. I can neither confirm nor deny this. You’ll have to speak to my lawyer about that.
- Now comes the rolling-my-eyes-in-shame bit (like it’s not shameful enough so far): I FORGOT TO TAKE THE TOOTH FROM UNDER THE PILLOW.
hat did Hubster do during all of this?
What, the man who can survive on three hours sleep? The man who never hits the snooze button? The man who practically leaps out of bed ready to face the day, the second the alarm goes off? (Incidentally, how did I marry someone like this? I could just thump him.) Basically, after delivering his “we are sh*t” verdict, he chose this morning as the ONE morning in the whole year to…
…go back to sleep.
Is he kidding me?!
A short while later, Hubster woke up, Dreamy D lifted his pillow again – er possibly prompted by his mother – and found money that had miraculously materialised while he’d been brushing his teeth. He ran out of his room in total astonishment to tell us both that the tooth was still there. Now, I’m a blogger. I write. Words are obviously my thing. But I have NO idea which words describe the look on my husband’s (or my son’s) face at this point.
I may or may not have crept out of the room silently.
I can neither confirm nor deny that rumour.
You’ll have to speak to my lawyer about that.