A few weeks ago Colt lost yet another tooth. Why can’t they all just come out at once? Remembering to ensure a tooth fairy visit falls under the category of remembering my kids’ names. It’s sporadic. “Ke…No..Colt…whoever the hell you are, let the dog in.”
That night I tucked my sweet boy in bed, placed the disgusting tooth under his pillow hoping it didn’t eat his face off while he slept, and said, “I wonder what the tooth fairy is going to bring you?”
Then I promptly went upstairs, watched television had a glass…or two of wine and went to bed. I awoke the next morning to hear Colt tapping on my husband’s shoulder and saying, “Papa, I’m so disappointed in the tooth fairy.”
I did what any self-respecting-intelligent woman would do in this moment. I pretended I was asleep and left my husband to deal with the tooth fairy carnage.
JJ was able to convince Colt that the tooth fairy was just behind schedule due to the overwhelming demand during the holidays. You know, because teeth are just shooting out of kids’ mouths at alarming rates during the holiday season.
We don’t raise ‘em smart around here, we raise ‘em gullible.
Later in the day, Noah, J and I were sitting around watching football on television while Colt played Club Penguin. Colt threw his hands up in the air and yelled, “YES!!”
“Wow, did you win something?” I asked.
“No, I just reported two people,” he said with glee.
“You what?” I asked.
Turns out some friends of his at school told him that if you think someone has a “bad” name on Club Penguin you can report them.
“What were their names?” I asked horrified. What kind of aholes are ruining Club Penguin?
“DogPenguin157,” he responded with disgust.
“What’s wrong with that?” I asked.
“It’s a really dumb name,” he said.
“Sweetie, you can’t report them because you don’t like the name,” I explained. “Only if it’s a BAD name like…”
It was at this point that Noah jumped in to help me (most likely because I have parented him for 16 years and he guessed what might come out of my mouth) and simultaneously we chose a bad name…
Noah (loudly trying to drown me out): “like…Penis Penguin.”
Me: “like…Shit Penguin.”
In the same moment the words came out of our mouths I thought, “I should have said that instead of shit.”
I looked over at my husband who was staring at me horrified. Noah was laughing so hard I was afraid he would puke. Colt was doubled over in giggles.
“Why” hahahaha “would” hahahaha “you” hahahaha “choose” hahahaha “that” hahahahah “word” Noah managed to eek out with tears in his eyes.
“I don’t know.” I said sheepishly, “I wish I had chosen penis. That would have been WAY better.”
J stared at me for a couple seconds longer, no doubt wondering how in the hell he chose me to mother his children, then went back to watching football.
At 8:00 that night I took Colt back down the stairs, tucked him in and made sure the face eating tooth was tucked safely under his pillow. Who came up with this stupid idea? Let’s shove the tooth under the pillow, BURY IT DEEP, then have mommy or daddy pull off Matrix like moves to remove it, replace it and not wake a sleeping child. Brilliant. I hope whoever it was is forced to live in a house made out of root hanging, blood dripping baby teeth for all of eternity.
“I can’t wait to see what the tooth fairy brings you,” I said.
He smiled, “Good night mama. I know she will come tonight. I just know it.”
“Me too bubba. I know she will too,” I responded while thinking I needed to set an alarm on my phone to go off in exactly 90 minutes the second I walked out of his room.
I kissed his forehead, then I promptly went upstairs, watched television had a glass…or two of wine and went to bed.
As I was climbing into bed I heard a faint knock on my bedroom door and then I heard these child innocence saving words from Noah, “Hey Shit Penguin, don’t forget you are the tooth fairy tonight.”