Marc insisted we save Isabelle’s first baby tooth — which was actually a natal tooth she’d had since birth — when it fell out. Personally, the idea of saving teeth creeped me out. However, Marc’s mom saved his baby teeth. Since he doesn’t ask for much I slipped the tooth into a plastic baggie and put it inside of Isabelle’s baby book.
As each subsequent tooth has fallen out, I’ve traded each one for some money. Each tooth has been placed — while I cringed — into that same plastic bag every time.
Yesterday at 2:00 a.m., Isabelle woke us up from deep slumbers to announce her seventh baby tooth had fallen out. (Thankfully, Marc got up with her since I had already been up with Ari.) By the time morning came, I noticed the tooth was in a plastic baggie, taped to her bedroom door, awaiting the tooth fairy’s arrival. (Yes, our tooth fairy still doesn’t go into her room. She doesn’t want to be found out!)
Last night, after Isabelle had been in bed for a couple of hours, Marc handed
me the Tooth Fairy two dollars (Since the tooth was clean!) and said, “Show me what you do.”
The Tooth Fairy removed her house shoes and shut down the lights in the upstairs hallway. Next, she asked for some scotch tape.
“Why do you need scotch tape?” Marc asked.
“I tape the money to the door and then I remove the tooth in the baggie,” she replied.
“I don’t have any scotch tape up here,” Marc replied.
The Tooth Fairy muttered something under her breath and then trudged downstairs to locate a roll of scotch tape. When she returned, she tiptoed down the hallway and made the exchange. She had to urge Marc to move back since she had to scurry out of sight in case Isabelle awoke.
When the Tooth Fairy returned to Marc’s office she reached the top of the bookshelf and retrieved Isabelle’s baby book.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m putting this tooth with the rest of them in the baby book,” she replied.
“Why?” he asked.
“Because you told me you wanted to save them when Isabelle lost her first tooth.”
“Maybe the first one, but not all of them,” he retorted.
“Well, you didn’t specify, so I’ve been saving all of them in here.”
Marc examined the bag and shook his head.
“This was your idea. Would you like me to throw them out?” the Tooth Fairy asked.
“See! I knew you wanted to keep them.” the Tooth Fairy retorted.
“We don’t need to save all of them,” he replied.
The Tooth Fairy faded away and I reappeared. “Well, it’s all or nothing at this point. So if I’m out of town for work, you’d better save any teeth that fall out. Or pitch them all. Whatever you want. I don’t think Isabelle will care either way when she grows up.”
Indecision set in for my husband so I wrote a quick note to my daughter (who will probably find the teeth when she’s a teenager) and slipped it into the baggie full of teeth:
I have a feeling this bag of teeth isn’t going to be around for much longer. But if it is, I’ve done what every not-so-mature adult does: shifted the blame.