A Special Kind of Tooth Fairy—by Jamie Levine

My almost-six-year-old daughter, Jayda, lost her first tooth this past week. Despite Jayda’s relentless tooth-wiggling, this incisor had been loose for weeks, and I was starting to believe it would never fall out. Finally, however, on Thursday, Jayda’s kindergarten teacher sent me an email announcing in all capital letters: “THE TOOTH FINALLY FELL OUT!”

I raced home from work to pick Jayda up early from her after care program because I wanted to dote on my little girl and make a fuss over her lost tooth. She was thrilled to see me, and after showing me the prized tooth—resting inside a tiny treasure chest she’d secured from the school nurse—Jayda posed for pictures sporting a toothless grin. Then, when we came home from school, my father presented Jayda with a bouquet of flowers and a helium balloon—sweet celebratory touches that had never even crossed my mind to purchase. I have one amazing, thoughtful dad.

After spending as much time with Jayda as I could, I kissed her goodbye—and set off to the city for a social evening I’d planned many days before. At first I felt guilty and regretful that I wouldn’t be home to play Tooth Fairy for Jayda’s first tooth, but my feelings disappeared quickly when I acknowledged that my parents would be there to take care of things. I knew they appreciated having the honor—and I knew they’d do it right, as they had already parented three children, who had each lost a mouthful of baby teeth. Of course I gave them a $5 bill to put under Jayda’s pillow (the “going rate” for teeth these days, according to my personal playground research), and mentioned that anything “fairy”-like, such as fairy dust on Jayda’s windowsill, would thrill Jayda, too.

The following morning, I awoke to Jayda’s screams of “Mommy, Mommy…come here!” I entered my daughter’s bedroom as she was peering under her pillow and pulling out a crisp $5 bill. “Five dollars!” she exclaimed happily.
“And what’s that?” I asked, as I pointed to a trail of chocolate kisses strewn underneath Jayda’s windowsill, and leading to her bed. Jayda squealed with delight. “The toothfairy must know how much you like chocolate kisses,” I continued. “She left a trail of them for you!”

Jayda flew out of bed and snatched up all the kisses. “I love the tooth fairy!” she announced. “So do I,” I silently answered. “So do I.” Leaving my sweet-toothed Jayda a bunch of chocolate kisses was clearly my mother’s clever touch. And like my father’s flowers and balloon, I wouldn’t have thought of it, myself. But that’s not surprising, because my parents are two amazing people—and being Jayda’s beloved grandparents is a job they take very seriously. Every day they dazzle me with their patience, creativity, and devotion to my daughter. Jayda is a very lucky little girl for having them in her life…and so is her mother. There’s nothing I’d love more than to have my parents be Jayda’s Tooth Fairy for her next 19 baby teeth. Here’s hoping they will be….