In which I am a useless toothfairy
Now, being a toothfairy doesn't sound that arduous a task, but I somehow manage to make a hash of it everytime. I have a horrible habit of forgetting to don my wings and tutu, and more vitally, not remembering to exchange tooth for cash until too late. Morning comes and it's apparent that the tooth fairy got caught in traffic or possibly was overloaded by all the other children's teeth, so she'll swing by tomorrow night.
I guess my heart isn't in it.
It wasn't me that brought the tooth fairy to our house: I think she came through television, school and books. I'm not against her as such, either. I think she serves quite a useful purpose, in turning something a bit icky and potentially alarming & tears-before-bedtime into something exciting. If only I could remember to make the exchange before I go to bed. I generally decide to wait until she's thoroughly asleep, but by putting it off, the thought drops out of my head.
Santa, on the other hand, I could gladly dispose of. He wants all the credit for the presents and means that to sustain him, we're supposed to buy presents "from us" as well as the ones "from Santa".
What a rip-off merchant he is.
He didn't make it to our house this year, the scheming gloryhound bastard. According to unnamed sources (ahem), he decided our children had plenty of presents and went on to some less fortunate family.
2 comments:
I confess to being more than a little relieved when my son sussed out 'Santa' - what started out as a fun thing had become increasingly stressful.
The tooth fairy on the other hand I didn't 'do' but he still got the money out of me anyway. He was okay about her not existing until a class mate brought in a handwritten letter from the 'tooth fairy'... Sigh. You can't win.
The not-winning is definitely a being a parent thing :).
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