Part-time Poppins:

The Time the Tooth Fairy Forgot

 

Something to Sink Your Teeth Into

Being a professional nanny has many perks, including the ability to don one of many roles throughout a single day. It's guaranteed that the unexpected will happen, and I often find myself changing out of a role almost as swiftly as I'd changed into it. Flexibility is one of many skills that a nanny needs to master: flexibility with reaction time, response, scheduling, activities...and roles. Modern nannies are an amalgamation of friend, guide, tutor and "extended family member," and when a tense situation arises, it's not always easy to decide which role (not to mention which angle) to use for a resolution.

I came in one morning and was surprised that all was solemn in a household that was usually overflowing with happiness. Colleen quietly took me aside before Justin came downstairs and explained that the tooth fairy had forgotten to leave money for Justin's tooth. She was truly remorseful about the situation, and I couldn't help but gasp quietly. I myself had been on the receiving end of a Tooth Fairy who had made a slight oversight, and I understood the severity of such a childhood crisis. Justin had been wiggling that stubborn eye tooth for days upon days, all the while talking about what great fortunes it would bring him. It wasn't until the tooth had a calamitous meeting with Zachary's bunk bed ladder that it really became LOOSE, though, and after Justin endured what seemed to be hours of bleeding gums, (which received real screams of fright from Zachary and I), the injury finally subsided into "wobbly tooth" and not "gruesome tooth." We did, however, make sure that we had "photographic evidence" of the tooth at its worst, and Justin was more than happy to provide close-ups consisting of tooth and not much else. I wondered what the photo developer would think when he saw them. Justin and Zachary both practiced saying "I vant to suck your blooood" in their best imitations of my thick-accented vampire voice.

For all of this excitement to have a disappointing climax...now that was very difficult for Justin to deal with. I knew that his patience had been pushed to its limit, and at one point, I told him, "This whole losing your teeth thing...I think you're biting off more than you can chew. But the Tooth Fairy's money...now THERE'S something you can really sink your teeth into." Justin had giggled, seeing the parody of my comment, but in his eyes was a faraway look, like that of an eighteen-year-old buying their first lottery ticket. Behind those pupils, visions of Pokemon cards and Game Boy games were dancing all about.

As I switched from "helpful nanny" mode to "caring older sister" mode, Justin looked at me with his sad brown eyes and said, "Was it because I did it differently? I wrapped it in a zip-lock bag this time? Or maybe it was because I went to bed too late, and the tooth fairy had already gone to our neighborhood? Or maybe because it was in the wrong spot?" I mirrored the expression of concern on his face as I debated which response was the most credible--and the kindest response overall.

Justin's capacity to brainstorm the possibilities for the tooth fairy's no-show astounded me. James and Colleen were both at a loss; truth be told, it is hard for me to know how they keep so many things so clean, coordinated and organized! I tried to absorb their organizational methods, hoping that they'll carry over to me. With three young children, I can truly see how a call to the Tooth Fairy could be overlooked. When it happened to me, years ago, I accepted the explanations provided to me...I believe my own parents went with "it was her day off," and I accepted that explanation. When something out of the ordinary occurs, it's very difficult to remember to incorporate it into our routine.

"Brushing" up on Child Lore

I assured Justin that the Tooth Fairy, like the postman, worked with systems that were very efficient. I explained that once I had sent a letter when I was his age, but I hadn't raised the mailbox flag, and the letter sat for days. I tried to show a logical connection between these "established systems" by then telling him that once, the Tooth Fairy had also forgotten me, and perhaps it was her day off, as the postal service gets Sundays off? (Perhaps the Tooth Fairy's Union had petitioned for this much-needed respite?) I crossed my fingers that he hadn't lost a tooth before on that same day of the week.

Of course, the Tooth Fairy is one of many dramatic ironies that nannies are privy to. Justin's younger brother, Zachary, was wild about the idea of a tooth fairy. His eyes would shine as he talked about this benevolent imp that "Gave you real money!" for the pittance of an old, unwanted tooth. I had similar views on this childhood heroine...that is, of course, until I found an odd collection of small white objects in a container on the mantle.

Some of my own research confirmed that the tooth fairy was traditionally known as a small "guest" who only visited in the safety of the night, collecting the recently departed teeth from children and cleverly offering monetary reimbursement. Additionally, the use of a pillow for this transfer of "baby tooth" for money is both sweet and clever: the money "appears" as the child softly dreams of it, and a parent can argue that they would be unable to successfully perform the transaction without waking the child.

While I was unable to pinpoint the exact origin of the Tooth Fairy Fable, I discovered many interesting possibilities. Answers ranged from superstition to religion to developmental acknowledgement, but this reward for an important coming of age is also a poignant reminder that the child is, in fact, growing up. With each tooth lost, a veneer of childhood also softly leafs away...All speculation aside, Justin knows none of this information, and as I looked at him, I saw just how important this culturally concocted pixie was.

Justin's eyes were still sad... so I continued to talk about the time that the tooth fairy forgot about me, and how I had also re-traced all of my steps to try to see what might have caused this unfortunate oversight. We then agreed to place the tooth exactly as the other lost teeth had been placed. Justin assured me that the Tooth Fairy would remember this time, and I made a mental note to try remind myself to remind either James or Colleen, as situations can become rather harried with three children, and if the Tooth Fairy didn't show up again...that would cost me one of my own eye teeth to come up with an explanation creative enough to resolve that matter!

"Eye Teeth" and Insight

Justin agreed that he would always do things the same way for the Tooth Fairy, "just in case." I supported the notion that it was mostly likely a combination of factors: the Tooth Fairy was confused by the unusual packaging, perhaps it was placed in a slightly different spot on the pillow, and perhaps because he went to bed late, she didn't have time to look more, because there were probably a lot of children in the neighborhood who needed to be visited by her...

A Tooth Fairy who was compassionate enough to take the time to visit the other children in the neighborhood seemed to pacify Justin. I threw out the possibility that other teeth hadn't been collected because they hadn't been packaged the way they usually were, suggesting that the Tooth Fairy tracked the way that each child packaged their teeth.

The concept of a Tooth Fairy softens the blow of what could otherwise be rather traumatizing: a tooth falling from one's head...It sounds ghastly when put into such blunt terms, but when I see how warmly the children react to the Tooth Fairy angle, I see that it is a warm route for the experience, as well as a tangible prize for their development. Justin has no qualms about accepting the Tooth Fairy's pay the next day: a full $5.00, perhaps due to the interest accrued for the tardiness of the payment.

Even with my recent Tooth Fairy research, I still wondered who first "met" the Tooth Fairy and enlisted her services for their child who had just lost a tooth. And then, I thought: perhaps it was a nanny, who, unable to provide the warmth that emanates from a mother or father alone, comforted a tooth-losing child by saying, "But just wait! The Tooth Fairy shall reward you!" I smiled to myself as I looked over at Justin, who, with dollar signs in his head, was busy at work on another tooth.