The last tooth I ever lost? I pulled it out on my own. Well, with the help of a balloon topper, but it was my own volition that urged me to bite down on the rubber blow piece, hard, and pull. The tooth had been somewhat loose already…I think…but it no where near ready for the plucking – I just wanted it more than I cared about how painful it may be to get it. I suppose signs of impatience and ferocious desire showed themselves early, though I’m pretty sure I was just as good then as I am now of hiding the depths of things like that. I walked out to the kitchen proudly holding up my tooth to show my mom, not letting on to how unnatural the loss of it had been. On some level I held a feeling of guilt and shame for forcing the process, hurting myself, being illogical. Being eight years old though, I was mostly just excited for the tooth fairy to come. 

I fucking loved the tooth fairy. We had one small, funky glass that was always the tooth fairy’s vessel of choice. She’d fill it with water and sparkles, a glittery mix of foreign currency – Mexican pesos, Canadian coins, some American quarters for beanie-baby bubble gum machines. I loved the copper pennies with maple leaves on the back; I would marvel at them quietly with a curiosity of other lands. Every now and then the tooth fairy would bring me a full on present, too: a single gift, beautifully wrapped, curly ribbon on the top. She’d leave it outside my bedroom door for the morning. My favorite gift she ever brought was a small porcelain house of bunnies. I loved bunnies. They were my first favorite animal. We had two of them for pets – Fufu and Posie. I remember watching Mama catch them when they’d get out – she’d pick them up by the skin on the back of their necks. My face and eyes would say enough. “It doesn’t hurt them”, she reassured. I believed her because she was Mom, but it still didn’t feel good. 

Of all the fantasy fun we grew up believing, the tooth fairy was my favorite. There was something about her small wings, her magical-fairy body, her wand – her wand! – her sparkles and ability to get under my pillow without waking me up. She just seemed more magical and personal than all the others. Santa visited everyone on the same day, the Easter Bunny, too. Everyone carved pumpkins for Halloween and dressed up. The tooth fairy though, she was there any day, at any time, when the moment was right and your tooth struck itself free. 

Being a tooth fairy mama someday will be amazing. Witnessing the innocence and joy in my child’s eyes when they lose their first tooth and discover a glittery jar full of unfamiliar coins next to their bed. Isn’t it funny how in the end it’s ourselves who create the magic? 

Magic. Pure, sweet, sparkling, tooth fairy Magic.