Pull a tooth out, get money.  Are we really teaching five year olds to sell their body?

The other day my seven year old was trying to convince us to buy him a toy that he didn’t have enough of his own money to buy.  When we told him no, he looked at us mischievously, said, “I’m going to get more money.” and tapped on his remaining teeth.

I’m surprised our kids haven’t continued down the tooth fairy path, wondering what the tooth fairy would actually want with their discarded baby teeth?  Does she grind them down for gelatin to make jello shots for her and the other fairies?  Does she use it as currency (a wing fluffing costs 22 baby teeth).  Is there a black market for the other fairies that she trades it on?  Imagine her craigslist ad, “SELLING human baby teeth.  High quality.  Good brushers.  Nearly plaque-less.  Accepting payment in dew drops, gizmos and gadgets.”

If the tooth fairy is making money on these little pieces of enamel, I think I should be getting a kickback. Why is she getting all the benefit out of my kids’ body parts?  I grew it, or at least grew the cells that grew the teeth.  I’m the one that had to avoid lunchmeat, mercury and uncooked cake batter.  I get squat!

In all truth, I do know there’s no tooth fairy trading factory.  I know because in my youth, while sneaking around my mom’s jewelry drawer, I once found a wadded up tissue.  Being the inquisitive person I am, I opened it up and found a pile of teeth.  Desperately confused, I asked my mom who they belonged to, and she said the dog.  Because that seems likely.  Our black Labrador would have lost so many teeth.  And that he would have delicately spit them out right at her feet as he lost them.  And she would collect them and keep them in her jewelry drawer forever.  At the time, I guess I was thinking my mom always wanted to be a tooth fairy and practiced on my dog?  I simply said, “Ok” and skipped along my merry way.

You know where I keep my kids’ baby teeth?  In a wadded up tissue in my jewelry box.

Because I’m keeping little pieces of enamel that my kids’ bodies rejected?  Does that make sense?  Even better, in my jewelry box.  Am I planning on making a matching necklace and earring sets out of these?  That way, when people comment on how “unique” my jewelry is, I can give them story of each tooth?  “Well this one fell out at a science museum.  This one fell out when camping – what a heck of a story that was!  We couldn’t remember to hide it under his pillow. Ahaha, good times.”

I’m walking down the exact path my mom did and wondering if I can make up a better lie on the spot than, “the dog’s teeth”.

Perhaps I’ll say these are the ones the tooth fairy gave back to me because they weren’t big sellers.