In Which I Fail At Parenting
Thankfully her parents have a sense of humor.
A couple of weeks ago, our niece little Miss Brooke wanted to come over and spend the night on Saturday. When she gets here, it seems she has a loose tooth, understandable as she turns eight next month. The entire afternoon and evening, she is messing with that tooth; when she's not wiggling it back and forth with her fingers, she's flapping it with her tongue.
As the tooth-messing continues, I am growing increasingly anxious and paranoid about her losing the tooth on my watch, because I have no idea what the Tooth Fairy's going rate is, and I'm afraid that if I leave an amount significantly higher or lower than her mom, the Tooth Fairy jig will be up! I mean, do I even have any ones? If not, would the Tooth Fairy drop a Hamilton for an eyetooth, or does it take a molar? I totally don't know! Mom is at an all-day band competition with Brooke's older brother so I can't call and ask. Much to my relief, she does not lose the tooth that night so I, and the Tooth Fairy, are spared. Later Sunday afternoon, however, I hear her pipe up, "Aunt Helly! Look!" so I look and she presents me with a palmful of blood and saliva, in the midst of which rests a tiny white tooth.
Unbelievable as it might seem, I do not freak out at the blood and spittle (which is in my hand! IN. MY. HAND!). No, I calmly get a paper towel and deposit the tooth for safe-keeping. I turn on the hot water tap because I'm pretty sure I remember from my own Tooth Fairy days that she needs to rinse with warm salt water.
In a rush to get her mouth rinsed and the (really not very much) bleeding staunched, I don't take the time to dig through the cabinets in search of a mug with cute puppies or kitties, of which we own several, or even the Frozen mug which was a gift from her to me - instead I swipe the closest clean one off the drainboard, which happens to be Alan's favorite mug; he drinks a lot of hot tea. I give her the salt water mixture and tell her to go rinse with it, and she dutifully trots to the bathroom. She calls to me and asks if she only has to do it once, and I reply that she needs to keep doing the 'sip, swish and spit' until at least half the mug is used - so she does.
Then she trots through the den on the way back to the kitchen to put the mug in the sink, and I see that I have handed the child a mug which reads, in English country cottage-type script, "It's motherfucking tea time!"
As the tooth-messing continues, I am growing increasingly anxious and paranoid about her losing the tooth on my watch, because I have no idea what the Tooth Fairy's going rate is, and I'm afraid that if I leave an amount significantly higher or lower than her mom, the Tooth Fairy jig will be up! I mean, do I even have any ones? If not, would the Tooth Fairy drop a Hamilton for an eyetooth, or does it take a molar? I totally don't know! Mom is at an all-day band competition with Brooke's older brother so I can't call and ask. Much to my relief, she does not lose the tooth that night so I, and the Tooth Fairy, are spared. Later Sunday afternoon, however, I hear her pipe up, "Aunt Helly! Look!" so I look and she presents me with a palmful of blood and saliva, in the midst of which rests a tiny white tooth.
Unbelievable as it might seem, I do not freak out at the blood and spittle (which is in my hand! IN. MY. HAND!). No, I calmly get a paper towel and deposit the tooth for safe-keeping. I turn on the hot water tap because I'm pretty sure I remember from my own Tooth Fairy days that she needs to rinse with warm salt water.
In a rush to get her mouth rinsed and the (really not very much) bleeding staunched, I don't take the time to dig through the cabinets in search of a mug with cute puppies or kitties, of which we own several, or even the Frozen mug which was a gift from her to me - instead I swipe the closest clean one off the drainboard, which happens to be Alan's favorite mug; he drinks a lot of hot tea. I give her the salt water mixture and tell her to go rinse with it, and she dutifully trots to the bathroom. She calls to me and asks if she only has to do it once, and I reply that she needs to keep doing the 'sip, swish and spit' until at least half the mug is used - so she does.
Then she trots through the den on the way back to the kitchen to put the mug in the sink, and I see that I have handed the child a mug which reads, in English country cottage-type script, "It's motherfucking tea time!"
Thankfully her parents have a sense of humor.
2 Comments:
Bahahaha! Not the worst possible fail though - I was expecting the tooth to go down the drain. You did a good job, clearly. :-)
By
Anonymous Me, at 5:40 PM
Be careful. She knows your blog (she said before that you had told her about it) and has read it somewhat recently commenting that she had no idea her pictures are on the internet:) I'll have to divert her attention from now on if she asks to read it again!
-Matt
By
Anonymous, at 11:54 PM
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