Truth fairy
Here’s how the conversation went. We were walking out of Cedar Chest Kids and heading back to the parking garage when Lila said, “Mommy, is the tooth fairy real? Tell me the truth.”
I stalled. “What do you mean? Did somebody say something?”
“Some kids on the playground were saying that the tooth fairy isn’t real, that it’s really moms and dads. Is it real?”
It took me a while to speak, and when I did, I spoke slowly: “Do you…want…the tooth fairy to be real?”
Lila huffed. “I want you to tell me the truth,” she repeated.
So I took a deep breath and laid it on her: It was really moms and dads, just like she’d heard on the playground. “But please,” I added, “Keep playing along for your sister.”
I watched her face for disappointment or — worse — disillusionment. But instead I saw something else: hints of a conspiratorial spirit.
**
That was several months ago now. This morning, she lost another tooth. And she’s been playing it up big, using her sweet-syrupy voice, opening her eyes up extra wide, as she expresses concern that the tooth fairy might forget to come tonight, and maybe she should write a note for the tooth fairy. And boy does she hope the tooth fairy knows the amount most kids are getting these days.
I’m glad she’s keeping up appearances for Stella, but she’s laying it on pretty thick. The tooth fairy might have to write a little note telling her to take it down a notch.
