“MOM! The Tooth Fairy Didn’t Come!”


It’s not fair that we have to work all this “magic” for our kids, without actually having any!

Oh geez. Just reading the title, you probably know what’s coming. Mom is an idiot. That’s me. Damnit! I made a mistake. Don’t worry too much, I’ll give away the punchline now and tell you that I fixed it – I think. But, I messed up. If you’ve been around a while, you will remember that playing the Tooth Fairy (TF) is not my best thing. Read my last harrowing experience with the TF here (http://butchontap.com/2012/10/29/tooth-fairy-butch-style-2/). So what happened this time?

Two nights ago, my daughter lost a tooth. Actually, she pulled it out and came running to show me. Being a proper butch only extends so far, and so when she shows me a gaping hole in her mouth that is bleeding rather profusely, I get a bit, erm, squeamish to say the least. Blood is not my best thing. “Wow, honey, that’s great,” I say walking out of the bathroom and away from the blood. “Make sure you put it under your pillow,” I add casually.

Well, she forgot to put it under her pillow, and I forgot to care. Yikes. Anyway, the next morning she was upset that the TF did not come. I was able to nimbly explain that the TF won’t come unless the tooth is in the proper TF place – under one’s pillow. She had, in fact, left her tooth on the bathroom sink. “Too bad, baby. Make sure you put it under your pillow tonight.” Right? Good job, Mom.

Flash forward to last night. She remembers to put the tooth under her pillow, complete with a note. She made sure to tape the tooth to the note – apparently wanting to ensure proper pillow placement. I removed a ten dollar bill from my wallet and left it in the kitchen – so I wouldn’t forget. Well, after getting the kids to bed, I was exhausted. As many parents can probably relate, I did the dishes, laundry, packed my gym bag, etc. and then finally sat down to do some work, along with urgent tweeting and facebooking (natch). Several hours later, I was wrecked and … headed to bed. Not a thought in my mind for the precious tooth taped to the note under my daughter’s pillow. Or for the ten dollar bill patiently waiting to find its way under that pillow.

This morning I was awakened by my daughter knocking on my door in tears. “Mom, the Tooth Fairy didn’t come,” she sobbed. OH MY GOD! I kick myself and curse my horrible parenting skills as I open the door to see her there – clearly still fully believing in the TF. “What the hell are you going to do?” the voice in my head is screaming. To my daughter, I say, “What do you mean, baby? She always comes.” “No, she didn’t come,” she cries. “Well, let’s see,” I say ushering her towards her room. “Did you put it under your pillow properly?” I have remembered the ten perched in the kitchen, just so. If I can just get that ten into the bathroom, maybe I can pull it off. I need to stall, thus the extra questions that I already know the answer to. “Yes! I even taped it to the note!” I walk into the kitchen sending her into her room – “One second, baby,” I say.

I grab the ten and slide it onto the bathroom counter where her tooth had been two nights earlier, and then rush into her room to find the note under her pillow. Now, how to make the transition? My son saves me. He innocently says, as he looks at the note, “You can’t tape it to the note. That’s why she didn’t take it!” Whew! Yes, this will work. I jump onto the 6-year old bandwagon, “Yes, baby, I bet that is it. She came, saw the taped tooth, and wouldn’t take it. A breach of TF protocol, clearly. Are you sure she didn’t come?” My daughter looks at me confused. So, I add, “Did you look everywhere? How about the bathroom?” My son sprints to the bathroom and yells, “THERE’S A DOLLAR!!” He returns to the room smiling and waving the TF evidence around – with is actually a ten (he’s just learning to deal with money).

Now, to drive it home, I usher them both to the couch. “Let’s talk this through,” I say. “What do you think happened?” We decide that the TF wanted them to know that she sees every tooth immediately, even when not properly placed, and so she left the money on the bathroom counter (where the tooth had been mistakenly placed). And, that you must not tape the tooth to a note. WHAT A RELIEF.

This TF business is exhausting. How many more teeth are my children going to lose?

It’s butch to protect your kids’ fantasies, even if it means being a fairy. Be Butch.

About Tristan Higgins, aka Butch Jaxon

I am a butch. This blog is about what I think. If you do not know what butch means, you are probably on the wrong blog. In the interests of inclusion, though, I can tell you that “butch” means a lesbian that is big, strong, tough, more macho, less girly. Of course, there are no hard and fast rules – which is an ongoing theme in my blog (and in the comments), but those are the basics. A butch will most likely not wear makeup. A butch is often referred to as “sir” by someone who is not paying attention. What else? I am, after all, not just a butch. I am happily married to the most amazing woman ever, and the mother of two fantastic kids. I am also a lover of, in no particular order, beer, bow ties, breasts, movies, hiking, bookstores, travel, dogs, geocaching, polar bears, the gym, music, gadgets, and more. By day, I am an intrepid corporate entertainment lawyer. Although I try hard not to be labeled as such – sporting a bleached Mohawk, for example. Think more entertainment and less corporate. By night, bring it all on! In my blog, I talk about things from a butch perspective, but this is not just for butches. We all love our femmes. Please do not let me offend femmes, mine in particular! If you like what you read here, I hope you will comment and let me know what you think. If you do not like what you read, well, what the hell do I care? Start your own blog. Be Butch. View all posts by Tristan Higgins, aka Butch Jaxon

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