Tooth Fairy Tale

     The Tooth Fairy was not scheduled to stop at our house.  I had read all the parenting books that advised against telling my child a bald-faced lie.  I had promised to always tell my five-year-old son the truth, not realizing he would some day ask if I'd ever smoked a cigarette or cut class.  But just like smoking and ditching, eventually I bowed to the peer pressure.  "Everybody's doing it!" my friends said.  They were right, everybody was--and secretly, I wanted to be a Tooth Fairy too.
     Once I fell, I fell hard.  Our Tooth Fairy not only left my son a dollar bill, but she also left candy so more of his teeth would fall out.  The candy left a trail from the window to his bed so he could imagine the Tooth Fairy crawling in through the open window, carrying a bag overflowing with mini Snickers and Hershey's Kisses, and fetching the lost tooth from under the pillow.
     And one more thing.  There was a Grandma Tooth Fairy who came to my mother's house, and she left twenty bucks.
     The last part was not my idea.  My mother is just the kind of grandma who takes spoiling very seriously.
     Like any small lie, this one grew like Pinocchio's nose.  As teeth fell out, my children (now two boys deceived) began to see this as a cash and carry business.  When someone wanted baseball cards, he started wiggling.  I began noticing that in the fall, both my children were yanking out teeth that had never been loose.  My younger son told me that it was better to get all your teeth pulled out before Grandma and Papa left to spend the winter in Florida.
     Occasionally, mistakes were made.  Sometimes the Tooth Fairy fell asleep while watching the news and did not make her appointed rounds.  She learned that a laundry basket provided a clever disguise when faced with a wakeful child.  One time our Tooth Fairy was out of singles, and her rate was mysteriously raised to five dollars--of course there was no way back.  And once when the Tooth Fairy was on a diet and unprepared for a sudden tooth loss late at night, she was forced to leave a trail of Jenny Craig Chocolate Calcium Chews.
     You may have noticed that my husband is nowhere to be found in these nocturnal wanderings.  Somehow, the job of Tooth Fairy has been declared women's work in our house.  Other moms confirm that it is quite rare for dads to assume the title.  I know it seems silly, but if we want more men to equally share these responsibilities, perhaps we'll have to call them something other than Fairies.
     Eventually, my older son heard the whispered rumors on the playground, and the questions began.  Is there really a Tooth Fairy?  If I stop believing, will she stop coming?  Do I have anything else that falls out and pays cash?  I consulted my girlfriends for advice.  One friend decided to confess that She Was The Tooth Fairy.  Her daughter reacted to the news with delight, and said, "Oh Mommy!  Can I see your costume?"
     Somehow I never got around to telling.  My children have come to understand who enjoys this game the most.  They now call the Tooth Fairy on her cell phone to remind her to stop at the ATM.  They have found her stash of chocolate in the winter coat closet.  They have discovered their long lost teeth in her jewelry box amongst her other precious things.
     My mother came over last night and my sixth grader yanked out a molar (she leaves for Florida in two weeks.)  It could be a permanent tooth, I'm not sure.  Anyway, my son did negotiate a higher rate based on the size of the tooth and the silver filling.
     The Grandma Tooth Fairy thinks he's going to be a lawyer.