To understand why Belle said, at approximately 2:50 a.m. Jan. 2, "I can't believe I'm going to be up the rest of the night because of the f----- tooth fairy," we first need to go back about 42 years.
My son has inherited many things from me - dashing good looks, a love of reading, the appreciation of a quality fart. He also has my small mouth and short tongue. His dentist told us last year he probably would need braces by the time he's 8 to make more space in his mouth for his adult teeth; I had braces the first time around the same age and then had braces again in my early teens.
He also was self-conscious about not being able to make certain sounds. A speech therapist worked with him twice before telling us the problem is that he physically can't maneuver his tongue and recommended he work with a myofunctional therapist, which is Greek for "not covered by insurance." She is giving him daily exercises for his tongue that we sometimes do together. He already can make his tongue in the shape of a taco. My attempt looks more like an open-faced gyro.
The myofunctional therapist recommended my son go to the orthodontist to evaluate his crowded mouth. We agreed, knowing sooner rather than later he would need braces. What we did not know was that "sooner" meant "one week later," and on Dec. 30, he had braces on a bunch of his top teeth. (He chose for the colors of his braces' bands orange, black and purple, something else he inherited from me.)
So, when he came into our room at approximately 2:30 a.m. Jan. 2, I immediately asked if his teeth were hurting. He said he just needed a drink - from a cup right beside his bed. I tucked him back in and then noticed our eldest daughter's bedroom door was open, which I thought was strange because Belle closes all the kids' doors before we go to sleep.
But to understand why Belle said, approximately 20 minutes later, "I can't believe I'm going to be up the rest of the night because of the f----- tooth fairy," we need to go back to earlier in the evening.
I would tell you the exact time but that would imply I remembered to put money under my daughter's pillow in exchange for her tooth. Instead, I know Belle told me sometime earlier in the day to do it in the evening, I acknowledged receipt of the request and promptly forgot.
We were already a day late for the tooth fairy but no kids noticed because of New Year's Eve festivities. My eldest daughter also figured out who the tooth fairy was a few years ago when she observed the tooth fairy's handwriting looked suspiciously like mine. (I switched from an all-caps style to my version of cursive, but we couldn't fool her.) Since the younger kids still had most of their teeth to lose, we reached an unspoken agreement: She would keep getting $5 per tooth in exchange for keeping the tooth fairy's identity a secret.
(Yes, $5 a tooth. I'm sure when my youngest is losing her last teeth we'll be Venmoing her $35 a molar.)
Back to the early hours of Jan. 2. I went back to our bedroom and told Belle our son was OK. She then told me I needed to do the tooth fairy for our daughter. I found some money and tiptoed into my daughter's room. Naturally, she woke up immediately.
"What are you doing here?" she asked.
"Uh, just checking on you. Your brother just woke up," I said, closing my door on the way out.
I walked back to my bedroom.
"You need to give her the money," Belle said.
I walked back down the hall.
"I don't have a note but I want to give you money from the tooth fairy," I said. "Where's your tooth?"
"I want to keep my tooth," she said.
"Keep your tooth?"
"Yeah."
"OK, here's the money."
I walked back into our bedroom. Belle shot out of bed.
"I heard the whole conversation down the hall," she whisper-yelled, implying our son could have still been up and heard the illicit transaction, too. The tooth fairy, she told our daughter, had to take her tooth or else would not be doing her job. My daughter ultimately handed over the tooth, and I gave her the $5.
We closed her door and went back into our bed around 2:50 a.m., at which point Belle, who had not slept particularly well the previous nights, said, "I can't believe I'm going to be up the rest of the night because of the f----- tooth fairy." I buried my head as far under our blankets as possible to muffle my laughter.
I slipped a note from the tooth fairy under my daughter's door before she woke up. The younger kids did not ask about the tooth or tooth fairy the following day.
Most importantly, the f---- tooth fairy did not keep Belle up. My snoring did.
