Tell, her,” says one of Rosie’s BFF’s.
Rosie shied away and looked at the ground.
“Tell your Mom what you told me downstairs,” Flora says and she gives her a shove.
Rosie looks up at me, takes a deep breath and starts to speak. She stumbles a few times before the words come out in a rush.
“I don’t believe in the tooth fairy. There I said it.”
“How come?” I ask.
Just last week she and another friend were searching our house for fairies. They had fairy dust and a small cage to trap one. How could she become a non-believer so quickly?
“Because I saw you slip the five under my pillow the last time I lost a tooth.”
Darn it. I got away with the ruse for thirteen teeth. And, number fourteen was pretty loose right now. I was hoping we’d have a visit from the tooth fairy in the near future.
Childhood is like a little slice of magic. It’s full of pixie dust and rainbows, with the pot of gold right around the corner. It’s a fairy tale for many little girls.
Rosie has tiptoed through the fantasy for over nine years. On many occasions, she’s been a princess or a fairy. She’s dressed in layers of tulle, sprinkled glitter all over the place and worn tacky high heels. It’s been great.
And, as you know, all great things must come to an end.
Last year, Rosie decided she was a little too old for the Disney princesses. Into a box went all the princess-related toys. She even packed up her clothes to be “handy-downs” (as she likes to call them) for the little girl across the street.
To be truthful, I wasn’t sad to see the princesses go. While we had become good friends over the years, I wasn’t sure I could stomach another viewing of Snow White or see Rosie trip down the stairs in her Cinderella heels one more time. However, the concept of Rosie growing up in a matter of moments, made me pause and wonder if all the little girl magic was gone.
I’d watch her retreat to her Tinkerbell-themed room every night and wonder if she was pulling the fairies off the wall. Was she too old for a trip to Neverland now that the other princesses were deemed to be babyish? The answer, for now, appears to be no.
So, I was shocked to hear her say, “I don’t believe in the tooth fairy.”
I figured her friend who is 2 ½ years older told her (we had been winking at Flora for a couple of years to keep quiet) as she was yanking her own tooth out the day before. I was shocked to find out that she’d seen me. She pretended to be asleep the last time I flew into her room
“Oh, Rosie,” I said. “That’s a bummer. You know what happens when you don’t believe in the tooth fairy anymore, don’t you?”
“Yep, it’s a bummer,” she said.
Last week, tooth number fourteen fell out. Rosie handed it to me in a zip lock bag and walked away to get ready for dance. She didn’t look back or even mention that there’d be no visit from the fairy.
As I watched her walk away, I couldn’t help but think how grown up she’s become. I wanted so desperately to surprise her later with a little something…just because. But, I didn’t. When you no longer believe in the magic, the money is gone.
Ladies, when did your kids stop believing in the tooth fairy?
This post was first featured on the Kansas City Star’s mom site in 2010. Since then, we’ve had teeth pulled, braces and now a perfect smile. Who says there’s not a tooth fairy?
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