Tag Archives: tooth

Toothfully

Beauty in the day: she lost a tooth yesterday, but tragically left it on her breakfast tray, and OOPS! Out it went into the trash. by the time I heard about it, there had been crocodile tears and comforting, and the little was back in class.

But that didn’t seem good enough to me. I grabbed a pink “tooth” necklace, and wrote a note on some colorful paper:

“Dear Tooth Fairy,
[So and so lost her tooth, but it was tragically left on her breakfast tray, and OOPS! Out in went with into the trash. You can find it here:

Ardmore Elementary School
16616 NE 32nd ST
Bellevue, WA 98008

Sincerely,
Kelly Nordstrom
Ardmore Elementary School Office Manager”

I brought the necklace and note to ]So and so’s] class, and took her aside. I read her the note, and then folded it up teeny-tiny, and popped it into the tooth necklace, and secured the lid with tape (just to make sure). I told her to take it home and show her mom, and to not worry, since the Tooth Fairy would have all the information she needed. She was happy, and stowed the necklace away in her backpack.

This morning she was back, and asked the sweet aide who had initially helped her if she had found her tooth. The aide was a little puzzled, and asked her if she had remembered to show her mommy the necklace with the note.

“Yes,” she informed her, “but my mommy just asked my why I took my tooth to school in the first place?!”

#ifyouloseyourtoothathomeitisnotasmuchfun

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To Catch a Thief

Beauty in the day: the story goes that there was this kid – a 2nd grader. She lost a tooth, and was the happy recipient of a little plastic treasure chest from the school nurse to save it in.
So, she put the tooth under her pillow and drifted off to sleep. Her dad went into the room with a dollar in his hand, and went to trade it for the tooth. Because he is a mere apprentice, and not the real tooth fairy, when he picked up the tiny treasure box, the tiny tooth inside rattled a bit, and the 8-year-old kid WOKE UP.
That’s not the bad part, actually.
She spoke in her sleepy state: “Daddy, Why are you stealing my tooth?” He assured her that he wasn’t, but she began to cry bitterly. Her dad was trying to STEAL her tooth. He put the tooth back, and left the dollar there.
In the morning, the 2nd grader showed her mom the tooth and the dollar. “But mom, something really bad happened. Dad tried to steal my tooth!”
Her mother assured her that this was not the case, but to no avail. The girl was convinced otherwise. Feeling that desperate times call for desperate measures (and realizing that it was a school day, and that her daughter might tell her friends a very bizarre and somewhat dastardly tale), she decided to tell her daughter the real truth. “There’s something I have to tell you,” she began. “You see, the truth is, Daddy is the tooth fairy.” Not surprisingly, this fell on deaf ears, and the 2nd grader began again lamenting the distressing and unswayable thought that her dad would STEAL her tooth. Somewhat exasperated, her mother queried, “WHY would Daddy ever steal your tooth?”
The child shrugged her shoulders and gave the only plausible answer: “Maybe he wanted to make some money for himself.”

#stillrollingonthefloorlaughing

Blood Day

Beauty in the day: it was a blood day. Not just any blood day, but apparently “blood day”.
Now, normally, on a regular day, a student (could be male, could be female) will come into the office, wailing loudly, all the while drooling, and cry out that they are bleeding, with great drama, as well as some pomp and circumstance. In some rare cases, you can actually see the blood, and in even more rare cases, you are, at least momentarily, alarmed that the injury may be great.
This was not that kind of blood day.
Today I had 8 (more than a half-dozen) visitations from students that had gotten the memo that it was a blood day. Each and every one of them (of varying ages, mind you) who came to visit, walked in calmly, completely dry-eyed, marched up to my desk, and said (more or less), “I have blood.” And they did. Okay, I take that back. One of them said, “I think I have blood,” but then realized that, no, she didn’t.
All of the blood on “blood day” today was minimal, and some of it was even regarded as a positive sign (albeit somewhat painful, when you add the swelling that a very wiggly loose tooth can bring about).
Very soon, perhaps even tomorrow, it will no longer be blood day, and this will most likely mean that the sight of blood (that often requires a magnifying glass) will be the reason for a good, loud, crying fit.

But not today. Because today was Blood Day.

Partridges and Pear Trees

Beauty in the day: 12 parent phone calls (about the power), 11 checks for wind, 10 subs-a-leaping, 9 kids in the office, 8 bandaids (no recess), 7 pleas to return to class (uh, no), 6 early dismissal kids, 5 minutes for a lunch break, 4 locations for indoor recess, 3 counselors in the building, 2 admins with a lot on their plate, and one lost tooth in a lost tooth necklace.

To Tell the Tooth

Beauty in the day: another tooth sacrificed to the Tooth Fairy. He came in with a wide smile, and the teeny-tiny-itty-bitty tooth in his hand.
“Ms. Nordstrom! I lost another tooth!”
“You mean, you made a fake tooth to try and fool me?” 😉
“It’s not fake! Look!” He showed me the gap in his mouth.
“My goodness! You painted your tooth black to look like you lost your tooth! Whatever will be next? How far will you go to get attention?”
He pushed his tongue through the gap to prove it’s authenticity.
“Oh my goodness! You’ve created an optical illusion to fool me!”
He grinned and shook his head back and forth. “Ms. Nordstrom, you’re not going to fool me.”
We picked a tooth necklace together.

Another One Bites the Dust

Beauty in the day: she sat down next to me, and launched into the latest story of her 10-year-old. “So, she told me that she DOES want to have an Easter Egg hunt, but then let me know that she no longer believed in the Easter Bunny.”

“Oh. No Easter Bunny?”

“No, not really mom. I’m just kind of over that. And mom, while we’re talking about this, I should let you know that I also don’t believe in the Tooth Fairy anymore.”

“Oh, okay. No Tooth Fairy, huh?”

“No.”

“And why is that?”

“Mom, awhile ago I lost my tooth and I didn’t tell you about it. It stayed under my pillow for a week.”

Meh. Epic fail.