Last week we learned that heroes are everywhere, including the post office and even at home!
Imagine my absolute surprise when I learned that I work a mere hallway away from a hero in my very own office. His actions – though modest - reveal the nobility of purpose in being a good parent. (And that no moment with your child is insignificant enough to be wasted.)
Though letters to Santa abound, ever since his daughter was young she has always written to the Tooth Fairy. And ever since his daughter was young, she has been the lucky recipient of letters from this individual of legend.
Hello, my Pen Pal, Clara:
Congratulations on losing another tooth. Wow, that one was an Incisor, which is a very important tooth.
You asked me some very good questions. You should already know what my favorite color is: it’s white, silly. The color of teeth!!! And although I sometimes wish there were other tooth fairies (you kids just won’t stop losing teeth, and I’d like a break once in awhile), I’m the only one. I’m not lying, that’s the tooth. Hah!
Hmm, other fairies. Well, there’s Tinkerbell, of course. But as for others, well, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you how many fairies there are. Do you ever think you see something out of the corner of your eye, and when you turn to look, there’s nothing there? Well, that was probably one of my sister fairies. We’re pretty tricky.
So, I do have lots of sisters, and we always have a fairy good time (get it? Tee hee). Anyhow, thank you for being a wonderful pen pal. I don’t know what I’ll do when you lose all your baby teeth. Will you still write me???
Well, I have 2,658,935 more teeth to take care of tonight. It’s a pretty easy night for me, unlike a night last fall when the apple harvest came in and over 5 million children lost their teeth when biting into those darned apples. Now that was a long night!
Love, T.F.
Until a child is old enough to understand that there is magic in the world through our love for one another, she is still the recipient of this greatest of magics, the love of a father for his child.
Right now she believes in the Tooth Fairy; when she grows older, she’ll believe in something much more powerful…her father.
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August 11, 2008 at 4:58 pm
Writer Dad
I doubt that I’ll see anything sweeter than that all day long. Thank you.
hayden tompkins says:
When he told me what he did, my heart just melted.
August 11, 2008 at 6:57 pm
daffy
That is lovely and yet again Hayden, your posts are my triggers. My husband thought he had won the lottery when he became a father for the first time. I remember our boy losing his first tooth. My husband made sure he put it under his pillow and he told him to be sure to be fast asleep so that the fairy could come to him.
The next morning, our boy came running down stairs with a letter and a silver coin.
“Read it Daddy, read it! The tooth fairy has left me a letter!”
My husband read it out, the note thanked Allen for his tooth, told him to look after his teeth as the new ones came through. It also told him how the tooth would be made into furniture for the fairy houses. The silver coin was a thank you from all of the fairies, and it had to be kept in a safe place, like treasure.
As his baby teeth left him he was so pleased his teeth were going to help the fairies. He even told his sister the story years after.
Better than that , he still has the first letter.
What a treat that is to pass down to his own children perhaps?
hayden tompkins says:
Wow, no kidding! That’s a beautiful story.
August 11, 2008 at 7:17 pm
Connie
Awwwwwwwwwwwwww! I love Daffy’s story as well. Thanks!
hayden tompkins says:
Yes, it’s pretty darn inventive!
August 11, 2008 at 7:27 pm
froggywoogie
That’s lovely. Done this kind of stuff several times. It’s magic for them but also for us, to see their excitement and that special sparkle in their eyes.
hayden tompkins says:
Froggy, are you a dad?
August 11, 2008 at 8:09 pm
froggywoogie
Yes, several times
hayden tompkins says:
Oh, lucky kids!
August 11, 2008 at 8:56 pm
thedailydish
What a cute story! Loved yours too Daff. Too sweet.
hayden tompkins says:
August 11, 2008 at 9:30 pm
froggywoogie
Do you want me to adopt you?
hayden tompkins says:
YES!
August 11, 2008 at 9:57 pm
SanityFound
Give that hero across the hall a hug from me, that was one of the most beautiful things I have ever read. Beautiful!
hayden tompkins says:
August 12, 2008 at 2:53 am
curlywurlygurly
i have a tear in my eye…and wish i was little again. thanks, hayden.
hayden tompkins says:
I’m sorry. DId you just say “I wish I had little ones”?
August 12, 2008 at 4:00 am
Night Writer
Reminds me of a vignette I wrote about a few years ago:
When my daughters got to be around three or four years old there were occasions when it was expedient for me to wash their hair in the kitchen sink. For some reason the idea of this simple, well-lit procedure was scarier to them than anything that they might have imagined coming out from under the bed or lurking in the basement. It was scarier even than Lima beans.
I couldn’t believe the tears and chin-quiverings that came about simply at the suggestion, or as I lovingly scooped a little one up in my arms, laid her on the kitchen counter with a towel rolled under her neck and her head in the sink and scrupulously gauged water temperature with the same care with which I had once tested bottles of formula.
Fortunately, in one of the first of these experiences with my oldest daughter I hit upon Mr. Henri, suave hairdresser pour l’enfants. In a cobbled together French accent that was various parts Pepe lePew and Jacques Cousteau I would regale her with an enthusiastic but sophisticated description of the wonderful experience she was about to receive, punctuated with nasal, “hauh, hauh, hauh” chortles.
“Hauh, hauh, my leetle floWEHR, Mr. Henri ees so glad you kept your appointment! Just for you I hav ze wonderful new shempoo, extracted from ze most delicate blossoms and mixed with bleu cheese! Hauh, hauh, hauh!”
As I prattled on like this her apprehension faded and the giggles soon began since, in addition to his obvious charm, Mr. Henri was also meticulous about keeping “ze soap out of ze eyes.” Command performances were repeated for one and then another daughter over the years until Mr. Henri retired by the sea to swap stories with Puff the Magic Dragon.
I thought of Mr. Henri again last night as I settled in a chair in our kitchen, just a few feet from the sink, while my oldest daughter fastened a drape around my neck in preparation for cutting my hair. She’s in beauty school and is at a stage where she is working on real, live people – including “free” (not counting the cost of tuition) hair cuts and stylings for mom and dad. I admit I felt a bit nervous, given the sharp implements and the large surface area to be dealt with, so I tried to think of what comforting thing Mr. Henri would say, and his response came immediately: “Don’t worry, be Daddy!”
I sat back, entrusting myself to her graceful fingers and perfectionism, much as she had made her own leap of faith into my arms so many years ago. I surrendered my head into her hands where it could rejoin my heart.
Ah, Mr. Henri, ze soap, I think it ees in my eyes!
hayden tompkins says:
LMAO!
August 12, 2008 at 5:04 pm
The Truth About Aging « Persistent Illusion
[...] wax poetic on the awesomeness that is their child. In fact, the ‘tooth fairy’ from yesterday’s article, is one of the most interesting people I know. If we aren’t discussing popular culture or [...]
August 12, 2008 at 5:07 pm
The Common Man
Oh, now I want my son to start losing his teeth. Probably not a good idea yet, since he’s only 20 months old, but still. Maybe I’ll start drafting letters anyway and save some work down the road. A good dad is always prepared!
hayden tompkins says:
This oughta be interesting!
November 19, 2008 at 5:03 am
frefallr
My son just lost his first tooth night before last. He was very excited about it and about leaving it for the tooth fairy. We put it in a little baggie (easier for the TF to find) and he went to sleep. A little later, I walked by his room and heard him sniffling. I went in and saw that he was crying. He said that he was going to miss his tooth so much, and he wanted to keep it for just one more night. I said that was fine. It took us about 15 minutes to figure out where to hide the tooth in his room so that the TF wouldn’t find it. Tonight, he decided to write a letter to the tooth fairy, asking if he could keep the first tooth. I was googling for a picture of the TF to use in my response to him (of course he can keep it, but maybe give it to Mom for safe keeping) and saw this wonderful story. Thank you for sharing this. I also borrowed the idea of encouraging brushing from Daffy. Thanks for that, too.
hayden tompkins says:
This article was a true pleasure to write! I was absolutely thrilled when my colleague related the story – absolutely priceless – and am very glad that it touched you.