The Prophet, the Plumber and Flossie

 It's a pilgrimage, a ritual of sorts.  Every afternoon we dutifully line up our cars, park in the designated areas of the cramped little lot to the side of the schoolyard, unbuckle  and unstrap our little ones and lead them like ducklings into the commons.  Patiently we wait making idle small talk with one another as we try to keep our ducklings corralled and orderly.  The bell sounds and in moments the commons is bustling with screaming and excited kids eager to relay the events of the school day to their parents.  OK.  So maybe not eager.  Zoë is only six and has already mastered the one word descriptors. 

How was your day?

Fine.  (sometimes to change things up a bit I'll get--good)

What did you learn today?

Nothing.  (occasionally--I don't remember)

Actually, we're moving away from the Nothing as an acceptable answer.  I told Zoë after one too many of the them that we were paying entirely too much money for her to spend 6 hours a day in school only to forget the entire school day within a matter of minutes of the final bell sounding.  I'm sure I'm not alone in this beef!

This past Thursday was different.  Zoë's classmate ran to her mother who had been standing next to me and exclaimed, "My teacher pulled my tooth!"   Cheers ensued as the mom proclaimed her love and admiration for their teacher.  Zoë was slowly making her way to where I was but as usual had many stops to make along the way.  She's a networker.  I swear the girl talks to everyone and everyone knows her.  When she finally did get to me she proudly handed me a small brown envelope and grinned enormously revealing her very own toothless grin.  "I pulled my tooth!"  It was a banner day, a twofer for Zoë's teacher.  God bless her.  It was going to be a busy night for Flossie.  (Flossie is the name we have given to the tooth fairy.)

I am Prophet.  I told Zoë that she had better give me the envelope or she was going to lose her tooth before Flossie had a chance to make her visit.  I'd like to say that my divine soothsaying is a gift, it's actually rather more of an acquired skill,  a combination of life experience and lessons learned throughout the parenting process.  Don't believe me? 

Sit down on your bottom in the chair before you---(CRASH)---Fall.   Prophecy to fruition.
Don't put that in your mouth or you'll----(GASP, COUGH)---choke.   Prophecy to fruition.
Tie your shoelaces or your going to---(WHOA!!,WAAA)---trip.   Prophecy to fruition.
Please don't jump in the---(SPLASH,SPLASH)---mud puddle.   Prophecy to fruition.  What is it with kids and mud puddles?

After dinner, I told the kids to go ahead and get ready for bed while I cleaned the kitchen.  Then they could come back downstairs and we'd all watch a movie.  I figured what better than Charlie Brown Thanksgiving, it's a classic, timely (it's Thanksgiving week, people--thaw the turkey) and not too long so they wouldn't really even be staying up past bedtime to watch.  Zoë, after several minutes, slowly returned to the kitchen tears streaming down her face.  "What's wrong?" I asked knowing full well what she was about to tell me.  (Prophet, remember?)

"I lost (sniff, bawl) my tooth and now (bawling full on) Flossie's not (sniff, snort, sniff) going to be able to come tonight."  (bawl, bawl, bawl)  I asked her to calm down and explain to me exactly what happened and this is the story, best as I was able to decipher.  "Well, I was brushing my teeth and when I got finished I wanted to look at my tooth so I took it out of the bag and it fell out of my hand into the sink and I tried to get it but it slipped and went down the drain and now it's gone and Flossie's not coming so can you get my tooth back for me and if you can't can I write a note for Flossie so she'll still come.!?"

I am Plumber.  I did my best Ward Cleaver nothing ever rattles me impersonation and tried to let Zoë know that everything was going to be just fine.  I had the kids start Charlie Brown's Thanksgiving celebration without me and lumbered off to find my tool bag.  Zoë assured me that she had not run any water in the drain after the tooth fell and I was hoping I would be able to disconnect the curvy pipe under the sink and retrieve Flossie's midnight offering.  I think it's called an S-trap.  (OK.  So I'm not a good plumber.)  With only a slight bit of effort and for the first time on record zero trips to Lowe's for a simple project, I was able to disconnect the pipe.  Sure enough, I retrieved the tooth.  I also retrieved a Barbie shoe, a plastic ring, 3 necklace beads, an earring back and enough hair to stuff a small pillow.  How in the hell was there any room for water to pass through that thing?!  Note to self--clean out the remaining curvy pipes under my other sinks.

Elation is as close to describing Zoë's reaction at being reunited with her lost tooth as I in my word challenged brain am able to describe.  The girl was happy.  Best part of the whole ordeal was that all of the sink pipes went back together as they had been prior to extraction and I am happy to report are leak free.  To top it all off, I still had time to catch the end of Charlie Brown Thanksgiving with the kids. 

I am Flossie.  Ever notice how much easier it is to get your kids to bed when there is the promise of a midnight gift bearing visit from some fictional character?  All you have to say is you had better get to sleep or ____________ won't come.  You know how shy __________ is and if he/she thinks you are awake there will be no visit.  Ahh, the sounds of silence. 

So with tooth safely tucked away in it's little pink sachet, yes sachet.  Flossie can't be poking around my kids beds in the middle of the night looking for some minuscule chunk of enamel risking exposure because my kids are light sleepers.  No, Flossie comes to the bedside table.  But come she did and left a very handsome certificate, signed and dated (Number 7 in the series) and a crisp dollar bill.  Well, the dollar bill wasn't exactly crisp but it's green and spends the same.  Hey, Flossie was working on short notice here!  Also, Flossie needs a new calendar.  The date of the afore mentioned certificate---Thursday, 15 February, 2007.  FEBRUARY!!!  My God it's hard to be a fairy!

I was somehow able to defend the honor of an overworked and extremely busy tooth fairy and changed the date on Zoë's certificate.  She was happy and none the wiser.  But, Flossie came perilously close to being exposed for the unkempt, sleep deprived, scatterbrained dork of a father that she is.  Fortunately----I am LIAR!

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  • Monday, November 19, 2007 10:51 AM whit wrote:
    You are liar, hear you roar.

    I like the sachet idea, and the certificate too. I think I'll keep a handful of coin dollars around and steal your idea.

    I am thief.
    Reply to this
    1. Monday, November 19, 2007 1:51 PM Zoe's Dad wrote:
      The sachet is a safety thing...really.  My kids have a triple decker bunk bed and Zoe is on top.  Not the place you want to be fumbling around in the dark in the middle of the night.
      Reply to this
  • Monday, November 19, 2007 3:11 PM Dana wrote:
    I am a loser. This just reminded me that the tooth fairy completely forgot to pay my youngest a visit last week.
    Reply to this
    1. Monday, November 19, 2007 4:08 PM Zoe's Dad wrote:
      Interest and late fees are piling up!!  It's amazing the redemptive qualities of a little extra jack.
      Reply to this
  • Monday, November 19, 2007 5:47 PM Jenny wrote:
    Being a prophet is one of those mixed blessings as a parent - you know what's coming even when you don't want to! Nice recovery there, too, Flossie!!
    Reply to this
    1. Monday, November 19, 2007 9:23 PM Zoe's Dad wrote:
      Flossie's learning on the fly.  It'll be cruise control by the time the twins start losing teeth.
      Reply to this
  • Monday, November 19, 2007 8:07 PM Quirkee James wrote:
    I am Laughing! Great post! Triple decker bunk bed? How does the top sleeper not feel like they are in a coffin that close to the ceiling?
    Reply to this
    1. Monday, November 19, 2007 9:26 PM Zoe's Dad wrote:
      Old house, very high ceilings.  Twelve feet on the first floor--10 1/2 or 11' on the second.  She actually has more room than the two below her.  Yet..... she still sleeps with her brother in the middle bunk.
      Reply to this
  • Tuesday, November 20, 2007 12:55 PM Frigga wrote:
    You do such a good job of telling the story! I remember, I used to have a little pillow with a tooth pouch - I wonder what ever happened to it...
    Reply to this
    1. Tuesday, November 20, 2007 11:32 PM Zoe's Dad wrote:
      Actually, my kids do all of the real storytelling work.  I just have to remember to write it down.
      Reply to this
  • Tuesday, November 20, 2007 3:17 PM Gary wrote:
    You see, I miss all of this stuff, I miss the tooth fairy, I miss leaving a mince pie and a glass of whisky out for santa on xmas eve and then having to eat half the mince pie and drink half the whisky when they'd gone to bed so they'd believe the whole story in the morning - now, in their late teens, they just ask for money three weeks before xmas and they're not bothered if we even put a xmas tree up - but my fifteen year old did ask if the tooth fairy still came when she had four teeth out for a brace fitting last month - I told her no, can you imagine how much four teeth would have cost me now ?
    Reply to this
    1. Tuesday, November 20, 2007 11:43 PM Zoe's Dad wrote:
      Wow, only half the glass?  Santa showed remarkable restraint.

      As for the cost of teeth I think it's probably a wash.  My kids get $1.  Let's see, 37 years ago I got----a buck a tooth.  (A silver dollar.  Funny when I think of it, I believe my silver dollar was probably recycled.  As soon as I would show it to my mom the next morning she would excitedly exclaim, "you had better give that to me for safe keeping so you don't lose it."  Never saw the thing again.  Until I lost the next tooth.  Hmmm.)
      Reply to this

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