What’s the price for magic? No, seriously. I need a rate here.

My son finally lost his first tooth. About a month before his 8th Birthday.


Apparently he’s like the last kid in the whole wide world to lose a tooth. As his mother, I am totally cool with him hanging on to his baby teeth for as long as possible. I am also now responsible for perpetuating the lie that is The Tooth Fairy.

The night he lost the tooth, his father convinced him to put the little pebble like memento into a plastic baggie. And set it on his nightstand, rather than under his pillow. Actually, I think Devin came up with the nightstand idea because that was far more practical than expecting a Fairy to slide under your pillow – after she’s gone through all the trouble of flying through your window.

So Devin goes to bed, the husband goes off somewhere else, and I am left to do the Tooth Fairy bidding. To be honest, I’m a little excited. I’m the mom who wakes up my kids in the middle of the night on Christmas Eve so they can “sneak” a peek at Santa Claus. There’s something really fun about passing on an illogical belief in magic.

Except, I don’t carry cash. Ever.

I check the mad cash wallet in the junk drawer (that may or may not at one point have been a child’s wallet and somehow has turned into “when we need cash for crap” stash) – but there’s only a twenty. There’s no freaking way I’m putting $20 on the kid’s nightstand.

No biggie. Surely I can find enough change to equal a dollar. Right?

I go through the change purse of my wallet and the husband’s nightstand. Three quarter’s, three nickels and a dime. Well, it’s not pretty… but it’s a fucking dollar.

I sneak in, swap out the tooth for the coins (because “coins” sounds so much classier than “change”), and sneak out. And snicker to myself and how sneaky I am!

The next morning, Devin sulks out of his room, bag o’ coins in hand.

“Hey buddy! Did the tooth fairy come last night?” I ask, trying to feign ignorance. Which is hard for me, being naturally brilliant and all.

“Uh, yeah.”

“Ooooh, did the Tooth Fairy bring you money? How cool is that?” I am practically oozing with smugness. I rock as a parent. Really.

Devin thrusts the baggie towards me in disgust, “the tooth fairy gave me 90 cents!”

“Ohhh that is – wait. What? What the hell do you mean 90 cents?”

“Yeah. 90 cents. Isn’t that weird?”

“That is a little strange… I wonder if maybe the tooth fairy brought you a dollar and one of the coins…” I begin casually upturning the furniture in his room to find that fucking dime. Son of a bitch.

“Yeah, I know. The kids at school said I would get at least two dollars!”

“I know honey, I’m sure – what? Two dollars?? It’s a tooth! It fell out of your head! All by itself!”

“I’m just saying. Everyone else gets two dollars. Sometimes more.”

“Yeah, well, it was a little tooth.”

Seriously people?? Two dollars? Sometimes more?? I’m pretty sure when I was a kid it was considered a raise when you got TWO quarters instead of one. I thought I was being generous with a whole dollar (er, 90 cents, whatever.) A friend of mine told me they gave their kid $5 and a Disney DVD. PER. TOOTH! (And I love you honey, but that’s just CRAZY TALKIN!!)

Internet, enlighten me. What in the name of all that is holy and/or made up is the going rate for this:

Maybe a quarter

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