 These theories make perfect sense to them until they discuss their
ideas with another child. Two events happened this week to provide
the most evocative conversation.My daughter had been worrying two
loose teeth for weeks, and finally they both came out on the same
day. Whether she believes in the Tooth Fairy or not is a moot point.
She believes in the money she finds under her pillow. The whys and
wherefores are not important.
My son, however, is all about method. All of the questions must
be answered. He has only three baby teeth left in his mouth. The
rest are in a box where he has saved them, going out of his way to
be sure that the box could never be mistaken for being "under his
pillow." Not once was he willing to trade a tooth for money, because
he couldn't explain the method. The thought of some strange,
mythical creature coming into his bedroom and rooting around under
his pillow while he was sleeping gave him the creeps.
My daughter thought that anyone who was willing to give her money
for something she would never use again was A-OK in her book.
Since the Tooth Fairy that comes to our house always leaves a
gold dollar coin for each tooth, the difference between the way my
son and daughter feel about her is precisely 20 bucks. If that
didn't sway him, nothing would.
"It's money!" my daughter would say, exasperated with him. "Who
cares about used teeth?"
"Yeah," my son teased, "but what if we got a rogue fairy and he
wanted more than our teeth? Maybe we'd wake up and our nose would be
gone."
My daughter huffed, "What is a Tooth Fairy going to do with a
nose?"
The second event was a rainstorm blowing in a southeasterly
direction last night. My son's northwesterly-facing windows were
being pummeled by wind and rain, and he couldn't sleep. He schlepped
his blankets across the hall and slept on the floor in my daughter's
room.
When they woke up, my daughter found two gold coins under her
pillow. My son was stunned. If he had known the Tooth Fairy was
going to make an appearance in my daughter's room that night, he
would have put up with the wind and rain.
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 "How did the Tooth Fairy get past me sleeping on the floor
without stepping on me?"
"Duh-uh. She has wings," my daughter said with just the right
amount of arrogance one should have when speaking of fairies.
"If she has wings -- and I don't think it's a she -- then he
would have a 6-foot wingspan. That would cause some real serious
turbulence in here. We would have woke up," Mr. Logical said, and
grammatical errors aside, he had a point.
"Fairies are tiny, silly." My daughter obviously had some pretty
strong opinions about fairies.
"How do you know? Have you ever seen one?" he challenged.
"Yea-ah. Tinker Bell," she singsonged.
"Tinker Bell's not real!" Which was an interesting observation, I
think.
"Uh-huh!"
"Nuh-uh!"
"Uh-huh!"
"She lives in Neverland with a boy who never grows up! You call
that real?"
And that, of course, led to an even more stimulating discussion
about whether Neverland exists. Tomorrow we'll move on to whether a
crocodile could actually swallow an alarm clock and if so, would it
still work?
By the time they are finished, every vestige of innocence will
have been trampled upon. Ah, childhood!
[By LAURA SNYDER]
Laura Snyder is a nationally syndicated columnist,
author and speaker. You can reach her at
lsnyder@lauraonlife.com
or visit www.lauraonlife.com
for more info.
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