Writing for life

Published in the WOW! supplement of the Evening Echo 11/04/2007

“Dad, dad, look!” screamed one of the twins, running into the kitchen beaming from ear-to-ear. You couldn’t help but notice the gaping hole, still oozing a trickle of blood, where her first baby tooth had been just moments before.

We’d noticed that the tooth was loose at dinner a couple of nights before. Ever since then the excitement had been mounting, and now that the tooth had finally come out the anticipation was almost palpable. Would the tooth fairy come? Would she bring money, and if so how much? And of course, the most important question of all… what would the money be spent on?

Surprisingly her twin sister, who has what I call “fairness issues” (“that’s not fair” tends to be a phrase she delivers with gusto several times a day), didn’t bat an eyelid at the fact that her sister would be getting a visit from the tooth fairy before her. For once she seemed content to bide her time, pushing experimentally at her own front teeth with her index finger.

“I’m going to stay up all night to see the tooth fairy,” said the twin whose tooth had come out. She wrapped her prize in tissue and deposited it safely under her pillow. We read a story and then it was time for lights out.
“I’m not going to sleep, I’m not!” said a tired voice from the darkened room, I said goodnight and left them to drop off.

A few hours later they were sound asleep, and our tooth fairy had a dilemma on her hands. Just how much was the going rate for a six-year-old’s tooth these days?

I’ve heard that, in some places at least, the tooth fairy has forsaken heavy, jingly money for the lighter folding kind. However, bearing in mind that tonight would set a precedent, and that there’d be a fair number of visits from the tooth fairy over the next few years, somehow I suspected that our particular fairy would opt for high denomination coinage.

Some time ago we’d discussed the whole tooth fairy thing. Should we, or shouldn’t we? Was it wrong to lie to them, or was it a harmless equivocation? And if we said nothing, what then? What if they went to school without a tooth and other children mentioned the tooth fairy? Worse… what if they started to questioning the very existence of the tooth fairy? Can you imagine the fallout from other parents?

So when the time finally came, so did the tooth fairy…. The next morning the twins ran into our room, one of them brandishing a two Euro coin.

“I’m going to buy a new toy,” she announced.

Later that day we found ourselves wandering the isles of the toy shop. The three girls worked as a team, scouring the shelves for the perfect purchase. They were shopping in earnest. My mind fast-forwarded a few years, and I suddenly saw teenage girl hitting the clothes shops. I shuddered, an my hand closed involuntarily around my wallet!

At first they picked stuff that cost €10 to €20. Eventually they grasped that they were working on a tight budget, and lowered their sights accordingly. In the end we took home yet another cuddly toy from the bargain bin.

Since that first visit the tooth fairy’s been busy, and has made two more trips to our house. The girls have also become more cash savvy, and have decided to pool their collective resources. They’ve decided to save their tooth money so they can buy something better. They’ve also started to view their teeth as currency. Now instead of asking how much a toy or game costs they’re asking “how many teeth” they need to lose in order to afford it.

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