Navigating the unpredictable world of fairy finances can be challenging for both kids and parents.
By Jordan Miller
My daughter lost her first tooth shortly after turning five, which took me by surprise. I hadn’t realized baby teeth could start falling out that early! I quickly searched online to find out the typical age for this milestone. It turns out, most kids lose their baby teeth around ages six or seven, so my daughter was a bit ahead of the curve. To make matters more interesting, the adult tooth was already pushing through behind it. Should I be worried and call the dentist?
However, I had a more immediate issue when my daughter knocked on the bathroom door. “So, the Tooth Fairy is coming tonight, right? Will she wake me up, or…?”
This was February 2021, and I hadn’t stepped foot inside a grocery store or bank in a year due to the pandemic. I had no cash on hand, and my debit card had just expired.
I turned to Twitter to find out how much kids were getting for their teeth these days and was shocked by the responses. Amounts ranged from $1 to $20, with most people saying between $5 and $10. I was hoping for something in the middle—between a cheerful note and a pile of bills.
Caught off guard by this milestone, I was reminded of my own childhood. Why were the Tooth Fairy, Santa, and Easter Bunny so much more generous at my friends’ houses than mine? I remember being thrilled when the Tooth Fairy left me a quarter instead of coins that added up to the same amount, only to find out later that some kids were getting fives. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was somehow less deserving.
My husband, who grew up in a different environment, often received unique coins from his Tooth Fairy—a few half dollars and even a $2 bill. It was a far cry from my quarter.
I decided to go for something quirky for my daughter, but it was late, and ATMs don’t give out singles or $2 bills. After rummaging through our belongings, my husband and I found two dollars in the glove compartment. Crisis averted!
The next morning, my daughter burst into the room, ecstatic with her money. “I’m rich! I’m rich!” she exclaimed, tossing her cash in the air.
After she proudly showed off her money to family members over the phone, I pulled her in for a hug. “I just want you to know there are many Tooth Fairies out there making deliveries,” I explained. “Some give more, some give less. I asked our Tooth Fairy for two bucks for you, and I think that’s plenty.”
“WHAT?” she replied, her eyes wide with disbelief. “I could have gotten more?”
“I love that the Tooth Fairy checks on your beautiful teeth while you’re asleep,” I said, disregarding the fact she didn’t understand what more money meant just yet. “But I’m the one who took care of them, brushed them daily, and helped you pull that tooth out. Why should the Tooth Fairy get all the credit? Here’s the deal: I’ll match your dollars so you can buy something special from me.”
She paused for a moment. “Will my fairy give a little extra to someone else who needs it?”
I nodded.
“Okay,” she decided. “Deal.”
I felt a sense of pride—she was ready to share her imaginary wealth with someone in need. She understood that I loved her and wanted to celebrate her achievement. She was already preparing for the unpredictable nature of fairy finances before any surprises could hit her at school.
That high lasted until a few months later when my daughter’s best friend lost her first tooth. The next day, she called to show off her gap-toothed grin and a crumpled $20 bill.
“Oh, wow. That makes me sad,” my daughter said, slumping on the couch.
I heard her friend’s mom sigh from off-screen. “Our Tooth Fairy couldn’t get to the bank last night.”
You can imagine there were tears—so many tears.
“Some things feel really unfair,” I told her, wishing I had heard those words growing up. “Do you want me to talk to your fairy to see if she can give you more?”
She shook her head. “My extra went to my best friend, and she really needs it. I’m just sad.”
Now, we’re three teeth into this arrangement. I keep a stash of singles handy, and our Tooth Fairy has gotten better at writing notes with her non-dominant hand.
At six, my daughter is asking tough questions about life. Why did the pandemic impact her childhood more than mine? Why aren’t other kids still wearing masks at school to protect their siblings? But instead of questioning why some fairies favor kids who already have it easy, she asks, “Is my extra going to someone who needs it right now?” That’s the kind of magic only her Tooth Fairy can provide.
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