photo: Marcus Bessa via flickr
When our editor’s son lost his first tooth she stayed up all night waiting for the elusive tooth fairy (okay, she stalked the TF. Our staff is just that dedicated). The following is the interview she managed to get despite the ever-so-slightly irritated fairy’s busy schedule.
RT: Tooth Fairy, sorry to spring this on you but you are a difficult fairy to reach. I mean, do you even have a phone or an email?
TF: It’s really alright, it’s just that you caught me off guard and you know I’ve got several more [children] to visit before daybreak, but I’m happy to answer a few questions. No, I don’t carry a cellphone. I operate on the Pixie Network.
RT: Okay, we have to ask. What is the Pixie Network?
TF: Every time someone says “Tooth Fairy” I get a little alert—not a text or anything drab like that. I have a crew of pixies with amazing hearing, and they scan the globe for phrases like “loose tooth” or “tooth fairy” and make note. They actually have created this giant global map for me in my office where they chart potential lost teeth, so that I can plan ahead. I never used to have that luxury and let me tell you: it is waaay nicer to end up in Barbados with a swimsuit than in a parka because you had to dash down from the North Pole at the last minute. And pixies are so uniquely qualified for the task because not only are they really good at being nearly-invisible, they travel like a whisper on the wind. And they are very loyal.
RT: That’s amazing. We had no idea. Do you only attend to the lost teeth of human children?
TF: I mean, if your dog loses its tooth and doesn’t manage to swallow it I guess I can answer a very polite and hopeful plea but that’s not my job, really. I don’t oversee animals. I do, however, reward children of other species: gnomes, fairies, dwarves, elves, pixies (obv.) and the like. Trolls, however, are another matter. They don’t get their teeth at all until they are adults and there’s not enough gold in the world to get me near an adult troll’s pillow. I may be magical, but I have my limits.
RT: We’ll take your word on the trolls. So tell us, is your name actually Tooth Fairy or is that your job title?
TF: Well, at this point my job title is my name. I mean, I answer to it, regardless. My full name at birth (although records are spotty at best, having been recorded hundreds of years ago using the ink of elderberries, which is NOT age proof) was: Esmerelda Asteria Bonvecchio Fee Fee Dientaris. Few people know it or can pronounce it correctly, so generally I just answer to Tooth Fairy or “Tee-Eff” for short.
RT: Is there anything our readers’ kids should know about their teeth and the exchange of teeth?
TF: Well, every household and child is different, but I’ve found over the years there is no one common denomination for a single tooth. I do love the current trend of making a neat little pillow or pouch to put the tooth in: makes it easier for me to find it. And I never mind when a little snack or note is left. Kids should know that teeth that are in better condition of course get a premium: free of cavities, well-brushed, low plaque, a nice sheen. These are all qualities that I look for and will leave a leeetle bit more under the pillow. I work closely with the Switch Witch, who works just after Halloween, to exchange candy for prizes. This helps improve the quality of baby teeth around the globe. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really must get back to the grind.
RT: Thanks again, Tee-Eff. We really appreciate your taking the time to talk with us. Next time, we’ll find you through the Pixie Network.
TF: Yes, errrr…do that. I’ll be sure and get back to you right…ahem…away. Ta ta!
Shortly after saying this TF gave a little wave and poof! disappeared in a cloud of what looked like glittery smoke or baby powder, though it smelled as minty as toothpaste.
What does the Tooth Fairy leave in your household? Tell us in the comments below!
feature photo: Jenn Durfey via flickr