Finje is consumed by jealousy and has taken to self affirmation to quell her desire for dental fall out. Gripping onto some innocent and still stubbornly fixed fang, she will attempt to force it into a reluctant waggle whilst at the same time telling herself, in all earnest that it is loose. It isn't of course, and any amount of wise words from me about them only coming out when they are good and ready, fall, naturally on deaf ears.
She's almost five and a half now so I suppose the day of the first drop out threatens. This leaves me pondering fairy tooth economics. Not wanting my daughter to be sold short when it comes to non-existent cash dispensing figments of imagination, I did my research. Tracking the exchange rate for teeth over the past decade against the consumer price index, it seems that the Tooth Fairy has kept up with inflation.
So that'll be €1.00 tops then.
Whilst I was slaving over a hot spread sheet, Finje was not for giving up on her quest. As I began to worry that she might bring into play some kind of sharp implement, she had, in fact, come up with a much more interesting idea.
She decided she was going to trick the Tooth Fairy.
Now you and I know that is an ineffectual goal as we are all powerless against the magic of any Fairy, but I decided it was time for some tough love.
Finje had designed her own faux tooth out of the corner of an envelope and some white sticky tape. Admittedly, it wasn't a bad attempt, especially if she were lucky enough to choose a night when the myopic Tooth Fairy was on duty.
Placing the fake molar under her pillow, she dozed off into slumber, no doubt dreaming of the riches she would find come the morning.
What she found was a tomato. She hates tomatoes.
What I wanted to say, and needless to say didn't, was,
"Don't **** with the Fairy!"