Bring it, Halloween.
I am so ready for you this year.
Other years, I’ve been totally stumped for a costume, which is how, one time, I ended up in a top hat, beard and black dress as Babebraham Lincoln when everyone else in the family had a legit All-American outfit (Uncle Sam, Statue of Liberty, Captain America, Betsy Ross).
But this year, I shall be — wait a sec, let me put in an ellipsis for dramatic effect ... the Tooth Fairy.
It’s been a lifetime in the making.
See, I’ve always had a thing for teeth. I was the weirdo who loved going to the dentist, who delighted in hearing that there was barely any plaque and that I didn’t have a single cavity and, oh, what pretty teeth. Hygienists fought over me.
When I wore braces, I stuck a timer in the bathroom so I could brush my teeth for exactly 10 minutes. My parents actually begged me to ease up, convinced I was going to scrub the enamel right off ’em.
And now I’m The Extractor.
No. 3 started bragging to his classmates about how I yanked out loose teeth — and he got $5 for each one. What can I say? This fairy’s a sucker. Plus, I’ve still never gotten over the sting of having 12 teeth pulled over two dental visits and getting just milkshakes as a prize. C’mon, a molar lode like that should’ve paid for my first car.
As word spread, I ended up pulling out every wiggler in No. 3’s kindergarten and first-grade class. My husband was sure we were going to be sued. Actually, I got thanked. A lot. A surprising number of grown-ups are skeeved out by bloody, loose teeth.
So in four days, I’m going to strap on wings, slip on a pink tiara — with a plastic tooth in the center — and Velcro on my homemade utility belt, lined with the past year’s toothbrushes and a clear, plastic container-turned-buckle filled with teeth. Real ones, some of them even silver-capped. Sadly, my perfect, dental genes are not the dominant ones in the family. No. 3 has had a looooot of work done, just like his pops.
Side note: No. 3 wanted to bypass the Tooth Fairy altogether and take those silver teeth to Good Ole Tom’s, thinking he’d score more cash.
But back to the topic at hand, yes, I have my kids’ baby chompers and even a, um, puppy fang from a beloved dog. That’s not Hannibal Lecter-y, is it? It just didn’t seem right to throw them out.
So this Halloween, if any little trick-or-treaters bite into a caramel and happen to loosen up a tooth, you know who to call.