So tonight there was a near-tragedy when my nephew Nate, while digging through his parents' closet, accidentally stumbled upon a baggie labeled "Tooth Fairy" that suspiciously held a tooth he hasn't seen since it fell out of his mouth and was carefully tucked under his pillow. Nate, traumatized and laying in a heap on their floor in shock (seriously...), was soon reassured by Alexis that the Tooth Fairy gave a child's first lost tooth back to the mother in order for to it to be lovingly treasured in the baby book. Nate thought for a moment, and then said, "Cool."
He bought it. Crisis averted.
It reminded me of when I found out that the Tooth Fairy was a farce and how it began an immediate chain of similar revelations. Said story goes like this:
Background: Mom, having decided that digging around underneath a sleeping child's huge pillow looking for a tiny tooth was sort of risky, actually used a little porcelain tooth fairy statue/container that held the tooth and had a little coin slot for the quarter (separate blog post: how we got quarters, and all my friends got five bucks). So we'd wake up in the morning, lift off the little lid, and snatch the quarter from the porcelain pillow and proudly proclaim to Mom that the Tooth Fairy had come.
So when I lost a tooth, I woke up the next morning, looked for the quarter, and realized, in dismay, that the Tooth Fairy had failed to deliver. I told Mom, who replied, "Well, why don't you go take a shower, and maybe the Tooth Fairy will come while you're there."
When I got out of the shower, the quarter had miraculously appeared.
I was a pretty bright kid, and this was obviously very suspicious. I went down to the basement, walked up to Mom and my brother Cam and said,
"Mom. Are you the Tooth Fairy?"
Mom, failing to attempt Alexis's miraculous save, simply answered, ".....Yes."
(long pause)
Me, squinting at her: "Are you the Easter Bunny?"
Mom: "Yes."
(longer pause)
Me: "Are you SANTA CLAUS?!?!?"
Backtrack: I was a weirdly spiritual child. I had previously decided to rationalize my belief in Santa Claus (and at this point I know I was at least 7 because this kid Nick who sat next to me in 2nd grade was way better informed than the rest of us and when one day in class he snorted at our belief in Santa Claus, I vividly remember turning to him and glaring.) Anyway, I had previously rationalized my belief in Santa Claus by deciding that Heavenly Father and Jesus had created Santa Claus to make little children happy. It was serious business - this guy was an integral part of my faith, for crying out loud. He was practically part of the Trinity. My trek to the tree each Christmas morning could easily have been called a pilgrimage. I was a staunch believer. (Is this why I'm a Christmas fanatic? I feel like I'm connecting some dots...)
So when my mother answered in the affirmative, needless to say, it became my first real trial of faith. I don't remember the recovery process quite as vividly, but I'm still here, so apparently I made it through.
Poor little me-child, though. Life has always been so rough.
4 comments:
Who would grown children have to blame for their emotional problems if they didn't have parents? I'm just asking.
I read an article in Sunstone a few years ago about LDS parents who choose not to do the Santa thing. Their rationale is, if/when our kids find out we lied to them about the existence of Santa/E.Bunny/T.Fairy/etc., why would they believe we didn't lie about God and Christ?
It's a fair point, and one I've pondered since then.
I love the title of this blog post.
Thank you, Mom, for revealing to the blogosphere that I have emotional problems....;)
I think the Easter Bunny might have been the first for me. The idea of a six foot bunny hopping around delivering eggs was a little too much. I did cling to Santa for a long time though. So long, in fact, that my mom suggested getting a book from the library about the real St. Nick and I responded something to the effect that I didn't want to know.
Hey, who was getting five bucks? I also remember quarters.
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