R is too smart for her own good sometimes. At the tender age of eleven, she still harbors a deep-seated belief in Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, and unicorns, specifically one unicorn named Jewel. Jewel was my childhood imaginary friend who would bring me news from the far reaches of the world when I was unable to travel there myself. Jewel also has ins with Santa, E.B., and the Tooth Fairy. Despite the rest of the world rapidly trying to disintegrate her belief (and sometimes making headway), R doggedly believes.
Well, I say she believes. She has moments of “figuring it out” but our game is that I come up for reasonable answers for her belief-splintering questions. For years there were nightly stories of the places that Jewel had gone, her adventures in the vast world, and her close relationship with the main characters in every child’s fantastical imagination. I suppose I reasoned that when she lost the last of her baby teeth, I would gently bring her into the fold of reality and confirm her long-held suspicions that I am, in fact, the multiple personality master of all her youthful imaginings for the arrival of Christmas morning presents, the appearance of basketfuls of cavity inducing treats, and the disappearance of dental nuggets and their replacement with moola or other goodies. Until then, I have enlisted the help of family members who think it is great fun to assist in keeping the mysteries alive. Until then, slowly. Gently.
Yeah. Right.
R lost another tooth yesterday. I honestly have no idea how many are left, but the issue at hand was rapidly acquiring something to put under her pillow. She’s passed the point of being excited for a dollar coin, so I stopped at the store on the way home yesterday to pick up some fun little tchotchke for her to wake up to. Now, as a light sleeper when she first goes to bed, I have learned to either place the items somewhere other than under her pillow or plant items right under her very nose with the rouse of “checking” to make sure her tooth is safely tucked into whatever container we’re using to make sure it doesn’t get lost in her nighttime squirmings. She caught onto that tactic a few teeth ago, though I explained that the Tooth Fairy is simply so fast that R never saw her. How else can she make it around the world to all the kids who lost teeth in a single night. After all, she IS magical.
The last time she lost a tooth, I had to leave it somewhere other than under her pillow. No big deal – I left a little note in pretty cursive curly handwriting along with her gift:
Needless to say, R was delighted with the note. Little did I know, but should have suspected, she saved it. She saves everything. I thought that was the end of it. Not so, KC, not so.
Fast forward to last night. I had two little gifts for her and hid them well until we tucked her in. My husband and I were planning to go to bed a short time later, so I told him I’d write a little note like last time and leave them on her dresser. My husband waited for a while until she was most likely asleep and left the note with the gifts. Mission accomplished.
It is important to note that we have adopted a cat. Or more appropriately, he has adopted us. (A story for another time.) He is black with a few white hairs every here and there. His name is Leo, and he keeps us on our toes. The note I wrote the Tooth Fairy wrote was thus:
As per the norm, she came into my room to say good morning and show me her loot from the Tooth Fairy. She was very happy with what was left and with the note. She then skipped back to her room to get ready for school. Seconds later she was back.
- R *examining something in her hands*: Momma, look. *Shows me the note from this morning*
- KC: What about it?
- R *holds up the note from her last lost tooth*: Don’t you see it?
- KC: …..
- R *exasperated*: ThE hAnDwRiTiNg DoEsN’t MaTcH!
Wow. I mean… Wow. Let’s face it – I am in so much trouble with this one. My older kids never analyzed handwriting! Is this it? Do I come clean???
Nah.
“You know, the Tooth Fairy is pretty busy. Maybe she sent one of her helpers to take care of yours? Maybe she sent Jewel? Maybe she sent someone from the South American division, you know, el raton del dientes? (Tooth Mouse. Yes, it’s a thing.) Maybe that’s why Leo chased her? I’ll bet he gave her a run for her money!”
The secret is safe… for the moment. Never, in all my time as a parent, have I had to spin such elaborate tales to protect my secret identities. Why can’t I be like Superman? Add a pair of glasses and his identity is totally secret. I’m just not that lucky.
R is my youngest. When she graduates to unbelief, so too do I. The consolation is that she has made it this far with a wonderful imagination and an absolute thirst for storytelling. She believes because she longs to believe. She doesn’t want to let go any more than I do. I know she will eventually, and it’s okay. There’s always the hope of grandkids in the far future with plenty of Christmas presents, colorful eggs, and teeth to hide under pillows… as well as a glorious desire for a little bit of magic.