(From June 2005)
Cassandre has lost another front tooth. I need to take a photo of her because she is the poster girl for seven year old girls. Long messy hair, wearing only skirts and shirts that show her belly, fake tattoos, gel glitter and now a big gaping smile. Seven is the year, by the way, of becoming complicated and my neighbor Jerry has given me a book to help me navigate my way through it. Apparently she is about to become "sullen." I can't wait. Presumably this is what all the eye-rolling has been preparing her for.
So back to the continuing saga of my life as the tooth fairy. After she lost the tooth she swore Xav and Nara to secrecy, in another planned test for the tooth fairy. I spoiled it during dinner, by noticing the tooth was gone. Cassandre admitted to planning another test, announcing that she now knew that the tooth fairy is "the parents" for some kids and "real" for others. She naturally wants the real one. And she would, by the way, like one who leaves notes, like Emily's tooth fairy. Yes, well I can't do anything about that, I say, because that is up to the tooth fairy.
Oh why, oh why continue this charade? I am a terrible liar - mostly because I can never remember what I have lied about. Why am I so dedicated to preserving the myth of the tooth fairy? I don't know. But dedicated I am.
That night we go off to bed and, remembering the last time when I almost lost the tooth entirely, I convince her to leave it in a box on her pillow "to be safe." After a little protest "how will the tooth fairy know it's there?" she reluctantly agrees. We all fall asleep. Even me.
Shit! What time is it? Five o'clock IN THE MORNING! Oh god, there is practically sunshine streaming through the windows and I haven't taken the tooth. She could wake up at any minute. Shit. Shit. Shit.
Crawl quietly out of bed, check on Cassandre - sound asleep. Go downstairs to get money. Look for money. Where is the money? I don't have a $5 and that's how much today's teeth go for (who decides this stuff?). Rifle through Xav's wallet. He does not have a five either and I'm not setting a bad precedent by giving her a $20. Wait, in my other bag I have singles from coffee the other day. One, two, three, four -- Hallelujah I have five of them. Write a note: "Congratulations on losing your 3rd tooth, love the Tooth Fairy." Creep back into her room, climb up on the bed (who's idea was it to get bunk beds?) take the tooth, leave the money and the note, and return safely to my bed. Whew, that was a close one. Note to self: drink less wine on tooth fairy night.
Back to bed at 5:30am. There isn't enough time to sleep (and my adrenaline has not completely worn off yet), but I don't have to get out of bed for another precious 30 minutes. Mission accomplished.