How the Tooth Fairy Solved the China Problem
Most would agree that I'm a pretty good mom. I deprived myself of sushi and wine for each of my pregnancies. I carry a purse filled with crayons, crackers, and tchotchkes to keep the peace during long restaurant meals. I entertain my kids with elaborate tales about a stubborn little girl named Pooty Pootwell. And each and every night, I come running for each and every little whimper my three children emit.
But as a tooth fairy, I'm a complete failure.
When my oldest lost her first tooth, the excitement level in our household was at fever pitch. We called every conceivable family member to share the good news. At dinner that night, the sole topic of conversation was speculation about what the tooth fairy would bring. A few hours later, my daughter lay her head down on her pink polka-dot pillow case and closed her eyes tight, eager to make the tooth fairy come faster.
Except the tooth fairy never came that night.
After I fetched three glasses of water (one with ice for Jack, one chilled with no ice for Bella, and a lukewarm one for Juliette), I scrubbed the pots in the kitchen sink, and then I folded the boxer shorts and sweat socks that had been sitting in the dryer for days. Around 10:15, I sank down onto the couch, utterly exhausted.
An hour later, I trudged up to bed, read a few pages, and fell deeply asleep, with no recollection of my new tooth fairy duties.
When I woke up the next morning, I felt well rested and serene, right up until Bella walked into the room with a quivering lip and her tiny baby tooth in the palm of her hand. Hearing that the tooth fairy sometimes got held up in China on busy nights only improved her mood slightly. It turns out that so many children had lost their teeth in China that night that the tooth fairy didn't get to Bella's tooth until right before she got home from school.
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