|You're right, Rock. We can't.|
Before MONSTA went to bed, we put the little rice grain into a baggie for the Tooth Fairy. I guess she doesn't bring her own containers, because we always put it in a baggie. Once asleep, I waited until she was good and groggy before slipping dos Jorge Washingtons under her pillow with a note: "Thanks for the tooth. - The Tooth Fairy." Of course, we never found the actual tooth. It disappeared in the night, so if MONSTA gets to it before me, Tooth Fairy is going to have some 'splaining to do.
Now you may think two dollars isn't much. Or, you may think it's too much. Either way...I DON'T CARE! I'm including the amount here for informational purposes only, and not so you can say, "Two bucks? Wow! In my day, the tooth fairy only carried quarters. I guess the recession is over!" I don't know when it became okay to comment so freely and obnoxiously on how much parents put under a kid's pillow, but that cat is way out of the bag. It's time we put it back in, tie it up, and toss it the East River. Two dollars is what we give her, and if you think this sort of frivolous spending will leave her dreaming of Ponzi schemes and golden parachutes, please keep it to yourself.
Whether a quarter or two dollars, all that mattered was how happy MONSTA was when she woke up. She had been upset that with the holiday over, she'd have to go back to school. But none of that was on her face today. Just a big, toothless smile and the following conversation:
MONSTA: She came dad, and she left me two dollars. And I saw her.
ME: You did? What did she look like?
MONSTA: She's brown, like mommy. And small. And she can fly. She flew behind my bookcase. I wonder if she has a house back there?
Wow. The Tooth Fairy owns her own house? In New York City? I guess she's doing better than any of us thought.