Let’s Wage War On The Tooth Fairy: Guest Post

April 4, 2013 in Guest Post by Emma Day

TeethThese little things are going to ruin me!

The tooth fairy has just embarked on its mission to destroy my wallet.

Our eldest has started losing teeth and some wise guy at her school told her that he gets £10 for every tooth he loses. Yeah right! Although, knowing the parents, they probably do leave a crisp £10 note under his pillow each time. Probably ironed. Possibly even gold-plated. I’m not bitter, I swear!

I conducted a quick ask-around of the parents at school last week to see how much they were leaving on behalf of the dreaded tooth fairy. £5 seemed about the average. A worrying amount of them were leaving more. A less than reassuring number were leaving a lower figure.

I got 50p for each tooth I lost. It was quite some time ago, I know, but still, has inflation really shot up tenfold since the 80s? Twentyfold in the case of Mr and Mrs Jones – who I simply refuse to keep up with. Even then, does inflation actually impact mythical beings such as the tooth fairy? Surely that’s limited to the real world. Next people will be telling me there’s a levy on dreams. Or a tax on the written word. I’m dismayed.

Maybe I’m just turning into a grumpy old man.

India

“These kids, they don’t know the meaning of hardship.”

I ordered a canvas print a couple of weeks ago. One of those where you send the image via email and they print it onto canvas for you. It was on Groupon or Wowcher or one of the vouchers websites, I forget. But I wish I’d delayed it a few weeks now. That way, with a huge picture of my toothless infant on the wall, it could serve as a permanent reminder of where society started to go wrong. It wouldn’t be so bad if my youngest hadn’t come downstairs yesterday morning to inform us that she had a wobbly tooth too. She’s 18 months younger than our eldest so I wasn’t expecting that. Although, having said that, our eldest is probably the last in her class to start losing tooth pegs.

So now the tooth fairy has launched what can only be described as a coup d’état on my bank balance and it’s not going to call a ceasefire until my two are all gums.

Children have around 20 teeth. So that’s 40 teeth between them. By the time they’ve finished, this imaginary creature would have cost me £200! Thanks, tooth fairy. Not that you exist to accept my sarcastic gratitude.

I get it. Monetary compensation for trauma is big business. Just ask the founder of any whiplash law firm. They’ll usually get you a decent payoff. But when did the tooth fairy start representing children? Let alone convincing them that their teeth are worth anything up to £10!

“Hello, is the Miss Davies, age 7, currently residing in Norwich?”
“Yes, who’s speaking?”
“This is Dawn from the Magic Teeth Corporation. Are you aware that you can claim anything up to £10 for each tooth you lose?”
“No I wasn’t, please continue.”
“Well, we successfully arranged a £10 payout for another boy in your class, whose parents were threatening to only pay him £5 for his tooth.”
“Who, Tommy?”
“Indeed, we sent our representatives to see his parents and managed to secure a four figure sum for each tooth trauma. Would you like me to pass you on to Marvin, our in-house claims handler?”
“Hell yeah!”
 

Or something like that.

Call Centre       “This is Dawn calling from the Magic Teeth Corporation”

I’ve settled on £5 for each tooth. I didn’t want to. I wanted to give them a pound for each one they lost. But at the same time, I didn’t want them to feel left out as all of their friends are getting at least a fiver.

What a farce. What a humbug, perhaps. Either way, modern day recompense for a measly tooth is out of control and in danger of becoming an industry within itself. What happened to the days when kids were ecstatic at the sight of a fifty pence piece? Why are parents dismissing the virtues of the good old fashioned 50p? What are the kids going to buy anyway – chocolate and sweets? Yeah sure, let’s collaborate in helping their teeth fall out faster. God I feel miserable.

Just as a nationwide indication as to whether I’m being a skinflint, what are you paying or what did you pay your kids for their teeth?

If I could sell them for ivory it wouldn’t be so bad.

 

Disclaimer: This is a sponsored guest post – not written or endorsed by crazy with twins. Photos are from a creative commons website.