Back in December J lost his second tooth, all very exciting. He left it under his pillow and went to sleep vey excited – even though he had been warned that the very generous £2 he'd had for his first tooth would have been a one-off.
When the Tooth Fairy arrived she couldn't find the tooth, the tissue paper was unravelled and the tooth was nowhere to be seen. How J didn't wake up with the pillow being bashed about I will never know. Hastily she wrote a note for J, blaming the pesky Christmas Elf Percy, but all the while wondering if he was just testing to see what would happen.
In the morning J was delighted with his letter and 50p and shortly after a mammoth clear out of his bedroom revealed no hidden teeth. All was forgotten.
Fast forward to yesterday and his 3rd tooth falling out. He decided that it would be a great idea to leave it on his shelf instead of under the pillow just in case the Tooth Fairy couldn't find it again. She nearly forgot entirely, but just in time did the swap and went
to bed off to finish her rounds.
All was good.
Tonight, my peace was shattered as J came barging into the bathroom with his hand clenched. “Mummy the Tooth Fairy forgot my tooth!” I almost sunk down under the bath water in despair. “Maybe she took the tissue and didn't realise the tooth wasn't inside? She'll have such a surprise!” I guess she will. I told him to leave the tooth on the shelf just incase she comes back tonight to find it again, whilst I mentally made a big postit note to stick on the door so I didn't forget.
It was only as I tidied up my clothes that I removed the tissue from my trouser pocket from the previous night…that still contained a tooth.