When you forget the Tooth Fairy.

Teeth have been a very constant ‘thing’ in our house. The twins have been teething literally since they were born, and are currently growing their big back dudes. Their mood as you can imagine is far from rosie.

Our 5-year-old persists with trying to find a wobbly tooth in the hope that she can join her big bro in the gap department.

Yesterday, like many other tooth loss days, consisted of being invited to view the latest wobbly suspect hanging by a string until it finally made its way to freedom.  This teeny tooth was wrapped and placed in the teeny pocket of the extra special Tooth Fairy pillow in the hope of a cash reward for the achievement.

This is not the first tooth to go. We are experiencing, as the dentist described, the ‘ugly duckling’ period where frankly the new teeth look too big for his face and, as each gap fills another is created by another departure.

Its late, having finally settled the twins back to sleep with their tooth troubles we retired to bed. That moment when you are just dropping of to sleep and then “bollocks we forgot the f?*@ing Tooth Fairy”.   Then ensues a brief negotiation as to who is most asleep, and Daddy makes his way in the dark [grumpily] to seek out the teeny tooth in the teeny pocket of the extra special Tooth Fairy pillow to replace it with that desired £1.  Only he can’t find the pillow, the only explanation is that our 7-year-old is actually cuddling it. “Oh well bonus for him, a quid under his regular pillow and he gets to keep the tooth”

Fast forward to 7 am and we are greeted by an excited 7-year-old who announces that not only does he have a shiny £1 but the tooth fairy has left the tooth behind for him to keep. The only slight disappointment is there is no certificate. Certificate?! when did that become another part of the tooth fairies delivery? Do we not have enough to remember?

We both look at this teeny tooth – it is minuscule, and will have been the cause of many sleepless nights on its arrival and not to mention the copious amounts of Calpol!

Meanwhile our 5-year-old has retreated to her room to commence some more focussed tooth wobbling and our 7-year-old announces he is going to spend the £1 at school tuck shop – well, pal, that is one sure way to ensure that the next ones fall out!


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