Lost Tooth

Reagan has only lost four teeth thus far in her little life.  Which seems kind of sparse to me, but I don't remember much about the quantity and frequency of tooth loss when the boys were little, so maybe it's perfectly normal.  Regardless.  She's lost no teeth since those four when she was about six years old... several years back.  And apparently, after those previous four losses -- which again I have no recollection of -- the tooth fairy was pretty incompetent.  Like forgetting to come.  Or giving only a quarter because the tooth fairy was broke.  That kind of thing.  Reagan is pretty convinced that  her tooth fairy is a total screw up, as compared to her friends' tooth fairies, who apparently shell out $10 for the first lost tooth.  Shouldn't there be some kind of tooth fairy compensation STANDARD??  I should remind her that her particular teeth have been the recipient of several thousand dollars worth of braces, and that probably goes against the "under the pillow" receivable rate.

She finally lost another tooth yesterday, after wiggling it around for WEEKS ("It's my fidget toy at school!  I can play with it in my mouth using my tongue, and no one even knows!").   She immediately put it in a plastic bag, and put it on the counter to show her father the next time she saw him.  Directly after that, she began to lament loudly about the quality of her tooth fairy, or lack thereof.   I told her not to have too high of expectations.  This tooth fairy had a bad track record, and it's freezing cold outside.  Maybe they didn't work in this kind of weather.  It wouldn't really be safe for their little wings and all.

Bed time came (way too late... another snow day demolished bed time), and Reagan went looking for her tooth to put under her pillow.  She couldn't find it anywhere.

"It was right here!  On the table at dinner so I could show dad!  In a little baggie!"  OH.  Yeah. Right.  And then I cleared the table and did the dishes after dinner.  UGH.

We checked the garbage, but there was burnt oatmeal on top (see the boys' blog for that story) and we didn't want to dig too far in the muck.

"I give up," I said.  "Just write the tooth fairy a note.  It works.  That's what the boys always used to do when they lost their teeth.  It's fine."

Reagan was agreeable to this idea.  And even came up with a scheme about putting the note under her pillow, getting the money, then finding her tooth and getting MORE money.  Nope, sistah.  Doesn't work that way.  Quinn tried the same thing at six years old.  Teeth fairy are too smart for that nonsense.  They may be incompetent, but they're not stupid.

So, for this round anyway, the tooth fairy came through, but it was the MAMA who messed up.  We've got enough ineptitude on both sides of the equation that this whole charade really needs to end about now anyway.