Tooth Fairy Rates

My daughter has had a wobbly lower front tooth for over a week now. She’s been complaining about it for much longer, but I didn’t believe her enough to test it out (Yes, guilty mother alert) until my hubbie decided to be magnanimous and touch it. Since then, we’ve had to put up with a blow by blow account of her day, as seen from the central point of view of how “okay” her tooth has been during the day.

We’ve got some Bonjela jelly to alleviate any pain, and I’ve been cooking mostly soft foods to at least stop her from using some legitimate-sounding excuses for not eating (she’s also become a little picky). But I am now thoroughly sick of the whole thing, and just want to get in there with the pliers or something and be rid of it. (I’m kidding - for all of those who are thinking about shopping me into social welfare or something!).

At five and a half, I considered her far too young for all of this. We’ve had a Tooth Fairy book with purse ready for six months now, but I figured we’d have at least two years to get her prepared for the event. Instead, it appears that she is about to become the first hero in her 50-kid classes, and have a story to tell - if only she hasn’t already bored them all with the pain stories beforehand.

I don’t think she will bore them though. At that age, bruises, grazes, injuries, whacks on the head, and a little piece of paper called an accident register informing their parents they’d fallen over during the day, are badges of honour. When introducing my daughter to her new ballet group of seven girls, I was surprised to find the ballet teacher sat down to witness each and every girl get out a limb, unclothe it when needed, and expound the teacher with horrific tales of how a blemish which was more probably a freckle, came about by some misadventure in the playground (often involving the so-called best friend who is currently not their friend anymore - for a day).  Heads somehow get shut in doors (yes, I don’t know how that could happen, either - but it apparently did - with my own daughter no less, and I have the accident register to prove it), girls have running races - after boys who don’t want to be run after, heavy-weapon machinery like a crayon somehow falls off a craft table and deviates into their calves with the brute-force of a sharpened pair of zig-zag scissors, and bruises appear simply by looking hard enough at their arms. The more colourful the bruise, the more kudos and attention expected from the adults on the peripheral of this deadly world of learning.

Just now, I looked up on the internet some information on adult permanent teeth. For some reason, as a new mother with no one  to train me up, I took things like initial teething, nappy changing, first walks, first (and thankfully only) tumble down the stairs headfirst and first inoculation jabs in my and her stride. Now, when faced with this whole growing-of-12-additional-teeth thing, I find myself completely clueless and not a little scared, especially as everyone I know at school who has kids older than my daughter is yet to go through this.

The internet informed me that her first adult molars should come through at around age 6, then the front incisors will be lost and replaced from 7 years. [All approximately]. Obviously her first molars are already through, and her wails about hurting during tooth brushing times last month were not (again!) picked up by me at all. I thought she wasn’t spending enough time brushing in there, so made her do more (second guilty mother alert, but I’m getting nonchalant now). So, now we’re officially into the front incisors, and gapey-grin photographs, and actually losing teeth in all the blood and glory I vaguely recall from my own childhood.

Okay, so we’re a little ahead of the game of most of her school mates - and their older brothers too. But don’t ever let it be said The Thompsons are developmentally challenged. I figured I’d better prepare myself by working out what the going rate for tooth fairy visits might be.

I could ask some relatives, who have eight year old cousins of my daughter. Some of them have recently started losing their teeth (I understand now that it can go on until they’re at least twelve!). But they live elsewhere in the county, and I risk taking on false monetary units compared to what is accepted locally here in the village. I did another search only to find the following from a newspaper published early last year -

British Tooth Fairy Payouts Climb at 3x Inflation to £20 Million
	Britain: Payouts by the tooth fairy have soared by 500 percent in 25 years to £20 million. The figure is three times the inflation rate and is approaching the rate of climb for housing prices which have jumped 600 percent in the same period. In 1982 the tooth fairy paid around 17p for a tooth. This has climbed to £1.05 in 2007 with payments ranging from an average of 95p in Wales to an average of £1.14 in London and the South-east. “The generosity of the tooth fairy has accelerated rapidly and shows no signs of abating. Teaching the value of money is often difficult but the tooth fairy is on hand to help…” said David White from the Children’s Mutual.
	Source: www.express.co.uk

This all seems not right. For some reason (rumours from my daughter’s aunt and uncles?) I thought at least £2 was the rate for one tooth - but perhaps that is just for the first one? Like some kind of incentive scheme. The rest will be paid with an inflationary scale in line with the mortgage rates, and higher cost of living.

Then again, why on earth would the tooth fairy be bothered with interest and inflation rates?  She’s a fairy afterall - all she needs to worry about is what to do with all those teeth she’s collecting. As an additional side, I must add that the tooth fairy has some almighty power with my daughter lately. Previously I was hard-pushed to convince her that fairies actually existed (sacrilege for this fairy-loving mother, who wishes there really were little dancing creatures at the bottom of her garden). Even as a two year old, she refused to go looking for them. Fairies were like monsters - they only appeared in cartoons (or Monsters Inc). Somehow, however, she remained convinced of the reality of Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny.

Suddenly, with the power of the almighty “money” thing jangling into the future, my daughter seems to now believe in fairies. Afterall, she informs me, the tooth fairy really does exist, so other fairies must do too. I questioned more into this, of course. What does the tooth fairy look like, then? Well, she’s obviously big enough to carry money around, and that’s basically it, was the response. The rest, it appears, is superfluous. The tooth fairy could be green haired, with one eye (like Mike from Monsters Inc) as far as my daughter is concerned. My daughter thinks a penny might be big enough to swap out for her tooth. That’s very generous of her, but she would likely become the laughing stock of the neighbourhood if satisfied with a simple penny per tooth, and I just can’t do that to her, no matter how confined the tooth fairie’s wallet may be of late.  

Obviously  not wanting to set a precedent which will have me become the arch enemy of the entire schoolground parent posse (particularly as my hubbie is now a school governor) I know now that I must conduct some very thorough on-the-job journalistic research, and interview anyone with a child locally who may have a view on how much the tooth fairy is willing to heave over for a piece of enamel.

Did you know that the main difference between milk teeth and adult teeth (aside from there being more of the later, of course) is that permanent teeth have roots, whereas baby teeth do not?

Does that give me carte blanche to lever out that front tooth of hers, then?  No, I thought not.

Comments

[JanMary]

£1 is the going rate in our house in N Ireland.

[Kori Dorn]

Loved your rant today! Yes, the first tooth gets a premium, then following teeth get lower amounts. Call it a "welcome" bonus from the Tooth Fairy! LOL Molars (especially painful ones) can sometimes get a bit more. I loved reading how you had her put it in a pouch and hang it on the door; in the US, the tradition is to put it under their pillow. Now this is also cute, but just try to slide your hand under the pillow to remove that little tooth, then feel around for it, as it has bound to have moved, then put the money under the pillow. I've gotten better over the years with this, and now put money in the hand that is searching for the tooth, leaving the money behind. Twice I've woken up my light sleeper daughter, only to claim to be "just checking on you" :D She believed me each time. (I felt rather guilty about lying to her little innocent and believing face!!) Your velvet pouch sounds like a much better idea! ~FYI- I have saved every little tooth and written on the day they came out. My husband always did this for my step-kids, without ever waking one of them once, but in my defense, they were both heavy sleepers.

Thanks for sharing and giving me a smile!