MyThreeDaughters

This is tooth fairy night.
Last night, Fontaine woke up around 3 a.m. and had a loose tooth in her mouth. Not a loose, dangling tooth; a disconnected, wandering-about-the-tongue-area tooth. And allow me to just say, Thank Goodness. That sucker looked like a fang sticking out of the top of her mouth.
Anyway, the tooth fairy. We just decided tonight that she probably has excellent teeth. Because she brushes them a lot. Twice a day. Wasn’t that a lovely parental layer added to tooth fairy lore?
When I was a kid, the tooth fairy ponied up to the tune of a quarter a tooth. These days, best I can figure out, the going rate is two bucks, though one seven-year old at the playground got three, but that’s because the dentist had to extract that one. I’m pretty cheap, but have to admit extraction ought to get a kid an extra buck.
Fontaine, at this moment, has constructed a shrine to the tooth fairy’s visit. Two notes, one lauding the tooth fairy’s virtues and another asking to please leave money, but don’t take the tooth. And an open jewelry box, with the tooth on display, illuminated by a yellow night light.
And let me tell you, it’s a blessed thing that the tooth fairy floats, because when I was leaving Fontaine’s room, our 90-year-old hardwood floors were popping and creaking like crazy.
I mean, if that tooth fairy walked, almost anywhere she stepped on the way to that box could make a horrible noise. The kind of noise that could wake a sleeping six-year-old.
Lucky she floats.