I鈥檇 like to make a proposition to all parents in the Western world: Could we please band together and come to some collective agreement of what is reasonable and warranted from the magical personalities that help make childhood special for our offspring?
Seeing as most of us parents have settled on the common tales 鈥� the jolly man at Christmas, chocolate-wielding rabbits at Easter 鈥� is it too much to ask that we get a handle on what is reasonable, fair or simply appropriate in terms of loot?
For as long as I鈥檝e been writing this column 鈥� more than three years now 鈥� parents have reached out after every holiday or birthday blowout practically pleading for discussion around the excesses of gifts, sugar and commercialism.
But recently I鈥檝e been dealing with yet another monster, and she needs to be put in her place, because my eldest is losing teeth like no one鈥檚 business and frankly, I鈥檓 exhausted.
About four years ago we started out with a beautiful ritual a South American friend suggested. We leave the tooth in a small glass of water so that when the Tooth Fairy dives in, she can safely fetch her booty, her wings staining the water in the process. It鈥檚 always been exciting to wake up in the morning and see what colour her wings were the night before. Sometimes there have even been sparkles.
To show her appreciation, she has always left a modest acknowledgment 鈥� a loonie, or toonie for those more difficult teeth.
Then last year my daughter got the idea to leave the Tooth Fairy notes. Not only do we need to be super stealth around the fairy cocktails, food colouring and swapping, we now have to make sure those sweet notes make it into our winged pixie鈥檚 tiny little hands at night, then see to it that surprisingly small notes make it back into the clenched fist of my daughter in the morning. It鈥檚 a challenge I鈥檝e embraced. Creating a fairy persona with the stroke of a pen on a miniscule piece of paper cut into the shape of a heart is up my alley.
However, after some recent discussions with her friends, my daughter has taken to no longer simply expressing her love for and curiousity around how the Tooth Fairy lives, but is now asking for gifts. Like small stuffies with unnaturally large eyes. Specific ones. Right down to the species, bizarre colours and brand.
This has occurred the past three occasions. On the first, I was caught completely by surprise, and the little lady left the usual coin and suggested she save it toward said toy. The second time she lost her tooth at 9 p.m. when I was parenting solo and even had I wanted, there was no way I could run out and get the goods. Two days later it happened again (I鈥檓 serious, we are running something of a tooth farm out of our house these days), and she was downright P.O.鈥檇 when she woke up to a shot glass of emerald green water and two bucks. Understandably so, when her pal is getting $5 鈥� and not one, but two, of these buggy-eyed stuffies per tooth.
Which brings me back to the bigger picture, and one that I am lucky 鈥� or unlucky 鈥� enough to consistently hear about working in a school environment. Here鈥檚 the newsflash: Kids talk. They compare notes.
We all know families that tag the biggest, most expensive gifts under the Christmas tree from Jolly Old St. Nick while mom and dad only cop to a board game and some socks and underwear.
Obviously those who are on a restricted income don鈥檛 have that privilege, so Santa looks like he鈥檚 playing favourites. The same thing can be said when the Easter Bunny makes an ostentatious splash with endless treats and gifts at one house, yet fails to leave more than a modest chocolate egg at the next.
Wouldn鈥檛 it be better to exercise moderation on these occasions? Parents who are giving lavish gifts shouldn鈥檛 hide their generosity or indulgence. They should take full credit and responsibility for such, so as to allow those parents who cannot maintain the same extravagance the opportunity to participate on an even playing field.
Or in this case, in an even air space. Because this momma isn鈥檛 about to load up on over-priced, googley-eyed toys just to keep up with the Joneses. For the love of Pete, the youngest has only lost two teeth.
