Myles lost a tooth, and our bumbling tooth fairy's services were required once again. Our tooth fairy is often forgetful and often needs a couple of days notice before the monetary reward is exchanged with the tooth.
Additionally, Myles, who is 11 years old, has been sleeping with his bedroom door closed at night to block the hallway light that Savannah requests be left on. However, on this fateful, toothless night, Myles surprisingly requests that his bedroom door be left open and informs me that his tooth is tucked into a baggie and has been placed in the pocket of his tooth fairy pillow.
"The pillow is right over there, Mom. On the other side of my room. Do you see it?" (hint hint wink wink) He's not on to me, is he? Well, I can promise you that at the risk of having to give up the tooth fairy's payment of $2, he'll never admit to being a non-believer.
So, again, the bumbling tooth fairy's services are required. I have now been subtly reminded by my son and to aid my senile mind, I race downstairs and write a black "TF" on my hand for additional reinforcement.
Well, as 11pm approaches and I feel confident that there are sound sleepers upstairs, so I attempt to tip-toe up the stairs of our century old house. I remembered that we have 17 stairs leading up to the second floor and each and every one of those steps has a very distinctive creak in it. There is absolutely no sneaking in this house. The hallway leading to the kids' rooms is just as creaky. And, to speed the falling asleep process, I turned out the hall light. It is completely pitch black up there. And in the 20 minute journey up the creaky stairs (I was attempting stealth, but failed miserably), I would have thought that my eyes would adjust, but they had not. So, I was forced to move one step at a time with my arms outstretched in front of me. Step. Creak. Stop and listen. No movement from kids, then repeat. It was painfully slow, but I made my way successfully into Myles's room. Two steps past the threshold. I had a general idea of the location of the pillow, but this was going to be tricky. I knew there was a chair between me and the tooth fairy pillow and I was determined not to stub my toe on it. So, I extend my foot out in front of me. No chair yet. So, to expedite this mission I decide to take a giant step toward the tooth fairy pillow. And land my foot right on a plastic shopping sack, which crinkles and sticks to my foot. The enormous racket caused by this sack forces me to make a speedy retreat back into the hallway, where my foot is ensnared in a pile of dirty laundry and I crash into the hallway wall.
I believe both kids sat up in bed and asked me what I was doing. "Just checking on you guys," I told them, trying to regain my footing.
"You are doing it very loudly," I was told.
"Sorry. Good night." I headed back down the creaking staircase.
So, the tooth fairy's mission was a complete failure. She'll be making a second attempt in the morning.
It's very unfortunate that my children should be assigned to such a bumbling tooth fairy.