T-man yanked a tooth out today.

If I’m going to be accurate, T-man was eating some Cinnamon Toast Crunch this afternoon when he bit down and felt an odd crack.  So, being the trooper that he is, he swallowed the cereal, twisted his tooth, and yanked it straight out.

Bear and I were straightening her hair in the bathroom when he appeared, mouth wide open, blood seeping between his teeth.  Good times.

Fast forward to just now when Bear launched herself into the family room with, “Mommy?  Are you the tooth fairy?”

Wait, what??  Didn’t we cover this already?  (And why does this shit keep going down when BrightSide’s gone?)

So I tried to deflect (“Didn’t we cover this already?” and “Is there an actual Easter bunny that hops through our front door?”) but Bear was undeterred.  After the third time she asked I just came right out and said it:  Yes.  I’m the tooth fairy.

And she gasped.  Literally gasped as the enormity of what I’d just told her sunk in.  And then she asked her more pressing question:

“What do you DO with them?!”

Okay.  I really didn’t want to answer this question because it seems callous and unsentimental, but she wasn’t letting me deflect this one either.  So I told her.  I throw them out.


Yes.  And do you know why?  Because when I was organizing the attic I went through everyone’s keepsake box, including BrightSide’s.  In BrightSide’s keepsake box I stumbled across a little container that rattled, and the noise startled me into opening it.

Where I found all of his baby teeth.


I swore at that very moment I would never save a single tooth just so there would never be a day when they stumbled across old, dried up baby teeth in their attic.

This is the thanks I get for trying to prevent the willies.