Our fourth child, Little J, lost his third tooth today. This marks the THIRD time we have lost his actual tooth before bedtime; but also, it is likely the s10th? 12th? time that the freaking fairy was overloaded with lost teeth, or unable to find our house, in order to deliver her promised treasure.
The problem is that "donut time" after our church service is a TERRIBLE opportunity to rip a tooth out of your mouth. A tooth, coincidentally, that I didn't even realize was loose. That sentence, right there, just summed up the difference between a FIRST and a FOURTH born, along with the fact that he doesn't have a monogrammed tooth fairy pillow like his oldest sister.
Instead of something appliqued and bedazzled, I placed the tooth in an empty cup that I took from the church's lemonade table; while resourceful, I was not smart enough to hold on to the cup and NOT place it directly next to the other (identical) cups containing lemonade backwash and donuts that had been discarded by grubby little three-year-old hands. And hence, it was thrown out with the other trash, not even a half an hour after it was ripped from Little J's gums. This surely wouldn't have happened if it was encased in a hand-sewn pouch--thus proving that Pinterest projects can often preserve the dreams of children.
This is okay though, because in our house, the tooth fairy is a son-of-a-bitch who is always a day (or four) late and full of excuses. And probably drunk.
We are THE WORST.
And it's really enough to give me a HUGE dose of mommy guilt, until I remember that this is a fictional character who collects children's teeth--and I am sort of okay with them not buying into this one, because it's a little Silence-of-the-Lambs-ish, and my goal in life is to shelter them from scenarios in which strangers build furniture, or construct intricate mosaic patterns from their body parts.
Welcome to a new week, blogworld.