Natalie Whatley

Using today’s vernacular, I’ve got a problem that bites. I’m not sure whether to call the American Dental Association or Mythological Figures Local 521, but the Tooth Fairy has seriously fallen down on the job in the last few months. I need to speak to her superiors before my household requires her services again.

She failed to visit the night of my daughter’s last tooth loss, and my poor son had to wait four nights for her to show! I told him not to give up, and covered for her by explaining that she probably worked alphabetically, and that with a “W” name, the odds of her making it to our home on the first night were slim. I’ve taken some heat for her, looked into the sad little eyes of a forgotten child as the tooth was discovered unmoved, and it’s high time someone got to the root of this.

I called the secret parental hotline reserved for dealing with such issues (1-800-URINEPT), and the operator who answered in India didn’t have a clue what I was so upset over. It seems as though the Tooth Fairy doesn’t operate globally. Given the problems I’ve had, I’m considering the less-complicated customs of other countries in dealing with future lost teeth.

I’m also somewhat bothered that my children put this imaginary, supposedly beautiful and angelic woman on a pedestal. I have to deal with the grisly side of tooth loss, administer the salt water, and clean the tooth without dropping it down the drain. She flutters down, perfectly coiffed, decked out in a white dress, glittering wings, and leaves money under their pillows while they sleep.

I would be jealous of her seemingly perfect image in their psyche, but I saw her one night in the hall, and she wasn’t “all that”, or the bag of chips. I should have given her a piece of my mind right then and there, but I was too tired having waited on children to fall asleep and all. Childhood is dangling by a mere dental-floss thread in my house; otherwise, I’d rat her out in a second.

Adding insult to injury, she has also reduced pay rates without bargaining with management first. She once left twenty dollars for four teeth forcibly removed by the dentist, but her generosity ended there. The oldest was never left anything less than five dollars, while the younger two are lucky to get a quarter. Apparently tooth loss is just not as big a deal as it once was.

My youngest painstakingly writes her the sweetest letters, and ceremoniously prepares for her visit. How dare her to let them down like this! Who does she think she is? I realize she has reached the apex of her career,  earned a spot at the table with Santa and the Easter Bunny, but does she think she can forget about the little people who got her there?

As of this writing, there are three loose teeth in my house. I hope this whole situation can be rectified before the next one comes out. I think I’ll wait up for her, and make sure she gets it right.

© 2008 Natalie Whatley

Tags: inept mother, tooth fairy