Last night Tiny Pants lost a tooth right before bed. I found the tooth box, we wrote the required note asking the tooth fairy to please, please let him keep his tooth, and put the note under his pillow and the tooth box beside the bed.
Thirty minutes later, good old Tiny Pants is bouncing on his bad and has "hid" his note for the tooth fairy on the floor in a little secret space between the nightstand and the wall. Clever, isn't he? I threatened to remove the tooth until the next night if he didn't go to sleep.
I set an alarm to remind myself, because last year the tooth fairy fell asleep which caused all sorts of chaos and confusion. When the alarm went off, I snuck back into his room, dug the note out from under his pillow and slipped the two dollar bills underneath. OK, shoved is perhaps a better description than slid, if you must know. Tiny Pants woke up but I got him back to sleep in under 3.3 seconds. Win.
This morning Big Pants woke up first. "I wonder if the tooth fairy left me anything?" he asked. Shizah!
When Big Pants started losing teeth, Tiny Pants was so jealous that the tooth fairy started bringing him a lollypop when his brother lost a tooth. It seemed easier. I had forgotten, or at least had hoped he had forgotten. He hadn't.
I ran back down stairs and rummaged through the cabinets for the new Dove chocolates I had bought (myself) and ran upstairs with them cleverly concealed in my hoodie pocket. I very sneakily slid them under the folded clothes at the end of the bed that he was supposed to wear today.
Meanwhile, Tiny Pants was up and looking for his tooth fairy loot and Big Pants had found his chocolate. The dollars were nowhere to be found.
Look, I know I put it under his pillow. I was stone cold sober and in retention of all of my faculties last night. I did not dream it. But the money was gone. We took the pillows out of their cases. We used a light to look in the crack between the bed and the headboard. We picked up the mattress completely off the bed. Nothing. Zip. Nada.
I ran frantically back downstairs, luckily found two more dollars in my wallet, and ran back upstairs. I fluffed his sheet and let them fall like little autumn leaves onto his bed. (Of course neither child was looking at the time, which was a shame because my slight of hand was Vegas worthy.)
Problem solved, or so I thought.
Tiny Pants commences to get dressed, and inside his UNDERPANTS beneath his pajamas he pulled out my neatly folded original two dollar bills. He was astonished.
Or acted it.
"Four dollars Mama! I got four dollars this time!"
I think I've just been played by a six year old. I'm starting to look forward to the day they stop believing.
Copyright © 2020 Lara Lillibridge
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