Well, Archie knows.
The Tooth Fairy has been inconsistent in the DeFwis household, giving everything from a quarter to five dollars (when she was short on change), and even leaving an occasional toy, secretly culled from Clay’s private collection (when she was short on cash).
A recent sudden interest in money erupted when the boys realized they could raid their piggy banks in exchange for some new LEGO’s. Despite my offer to match any funds that found their way into longterm savings, Cooper promptly blew his wad on 40 Star Wars minifigures, and Archie made an in-kind purchase of an additional minifigure collection.
But the LEGO lust persisted.
With Archie’s loss of his second front tooth just a few days behind the first, he was prepared. He arrived home from school and announced that he’d made a wish on account of this newly lost tooth, and that wish was that he’d get another new LEGO set.
I objected to this unorthodox negotiation with the Tooth Fair (of course), but Clay obliged, and somehow turned the Tooth Fairy’s average tooth-dowry into a $20 Amazon purchase.
All seemed to be well until the following morning, when Archie awoke to both a missing bedside tooth, and a missing monetary gift. When I pleasantly explained that his wish supplanted the Tooth Fairy’s funds, Archie exploded in tears and wailed at his father, “YOU STOLE MY MONEY!”
This bitterness lasted for the next twenty minutes, where I tried to reason with an outraged Archie – “Dad is amazing! He turned your $.50 into $20!” “Dad is the worst! He stole my money!” “Would you prefer that dad cancels the LEGO order and gives you back fifty cents?” “NO! My wish was for the LEGO set, so dad needs to give me back my money!” And so on.
Eventually, we needed to head to school. While getting his coat and backpack on, I divulged how the Tooth Fairy only gave me a quarter for every tooth lost as a child; no more, no less. To which Archie tentatively said, “That’s because the Tooth Fairy was Grandma.”
“What?” I innocently asked.
“Your Tooth Fairy was Grandma. And you and dad are the Tooth Fairy.”
“You think so?”
Archie went on, “And you and dad are Santa Claus.”
“You think so?” I repeated.
“I wished for a Nintendo Switch from Santa Claus but didn’t get one, because SANTA CLAUS IS YOU.”
We both stared at each other. Archie then reasoned that if we are the Tooth Fairy and Santa Claus for him, then his friends’ parents are probably their Tooth Fairies and Santa Clauses, too.
I have to wonder what this unsettling discovery must have been like for our seven-year-old to have, mere minutes before heading into his first-grade classroom. Archie didn’t seem too shaken by the news, however; I think he has a plan for how to extort his parents with this new knowledge.
The big lie has ended.