I have kept all the boys teeth that have fallen out.
The tooth fairy isn’t such a big deal in this house, infact, Oscar seems genuinely disappointed the morning after her appearance to discover that his tooth is gone for a lousy 50c or $1.
Me, indulging in my need to hang on to weird bits of my kids (I have the plastic peg that they attached to Felix’s umbilical cord – and not tucked away somewhere, just floating around in my makeup draw…), have kept all of Oscar’s teeth.
Stupidly, they’re just in a jar on the windowsill in our bathroom.
Felix discovered them.
The other day he said, “who’s teeth are those?”
I acted dumb, like, really dumb, “what teeth?”
“those teeth, in your bathroom.”
“Oh those teeth.”
“Yeah, those ones. Whose are they?”
“Oh, just someone’s.”
Thinking to self: IDIOT IDIOT IDIOT
“What? NO! Not someone dead.”
“Well, why do you have them and not the tooth fairy?”
“Um, oh I don’t know.”
A bird chirped somewhere.
“So how was school?”