The Tooth Fairy


Thing 1 just lost another tooth.  It only took four for her to learn the tooth fairy is a fake.  This realization came from her little first grade partner in crime.  She calls her Frenchie because she’s French.  Actually my wife started called her Frenchie and Thing 1 adopted it.  You can never start cultural stereotyping too early is what I always say.  My wife only does this with the french though.  Once she came into my office where we had just hired a french strategist.  For some reason he had some chalk or white paint in his hair and it looked like a skunk’s tail.  Without even thinking, she called him Pepe, after Pepe-la-pew, the amorous cartoon character.  He turned out to be a total Pepe. Pulling teeth in my opinion is the dad’s job.  There’s something very frontier-ish about it. It demonstrates courage, confidence and self-reliance in both the puller and the pullie.  Before I go in for an extraction, I usually wait ‘til the tooth is so loose that a good sneeze could knock it out.  By that time I can usually pluck it out by hand but sometimes I use tweeters wrapped with sticky tape for theatrics.  I left this tooth too long because the nanny yanked it out while we were out going to open houses, hoping I find inspiration for floor stains.  I got really upset with her but I didn’t show it.   I want to say, “Hey girl, that’s my job! I’m not paying you to be the hero around here! Go get you own act! Quit giving away the secrets to my magic show!”  The next thing you know she’ll being loosening the lids of apple sauce jars and I’ll be out of a job all together.  Back to Thing 1.  She just wants the money without going through the whole “leave it under the bed” routine.  I agree and ask her if she can break a five.  Is there no mystery left in the world?

The Perfect Storm

We’re holed up at the beach house in Long Island, after the biggest storm to hit the eastern seaboard since George Clooney pushed his luck for a few lousy tuna. I’m watching two idiots from the Weather Channel discussing their water proof wardrobe while Staten Island continues it’s cries of desperation, across the bay from it’s up scale sister. Even the Statue of Liberty has her butt turned towards the forgotten borough. We were lucky that we had a place to go. We get to wear Ugg boots, drink hot chocolate and arm chair quarterback Bloomberg’s decision to cancel the New York Marathon. Our building in the city sits in the center of flood zone “A”, which first came into public view during Al Gore’s climate change doc, the “Inconvenient Truth”. He should make another one called, “I Told You So” because lower Manhattan flooded pretty much as shown in slide 27 of his power point presentation. The kids were oblivious to the 70 mph winds that came whipping over the island and across our back yard. Thing 1 asks where the birds go during a hurricane. That’s a good question. South? Pixie Hollow? I have no idea but now the kids can say they’ve survived two hurricanes in 18 months. It will be part of their personal myth. I’m just hoping a devaluation of flood zone “A” property doesn’t become part of mine.