The Tooth Fairy

Arjun stirred as I carefully lifted his pillow and searched around for the little plastic baggie in which he had saved the first tooth that he had lost earlier that day. I was playing tooth fairy, but with a mild sense of unease. I removed the tooth and replaced it with five 1-dollar bills, feeling at once a sense of satisfaction from fulfilling an expected role and a disquiet from the con (albeit harmless) I was perpetuating.

In the morning I pretended to be amazed at the generosity of the tooth fairy (Arjun had rather doubtfully expected one or two dollars the previous night) and congratulated him on his find. An unexpected (but not altogether surprising) effect was Abhi being upset that he hadn't gotten anything and bursting into tears. I pacified him by contributing a dollar to his (broken) piggy bank. Arjun was pretty stoked by the whole thing but I wasn't feeling particularly thrilled.

Looking into Arjun's trusting eyes, all round with the wonder of it all as he recounted how the tooth fairy had taken away his tooth, I really had to question why we did this. As adults we tend to tell many little lies to kids, rationalizing that it is all for their benefit: either they get some comfort from it or they just can't handle the truth. One common situation this occurs is when kids go on their endless "why" questions spree. I learned quickly that what I was comfortable with was to give them the most truthful answer that I could. And if I couldn't explain it to their level (or satisfaction) then that is exactly what I would tell them - that I cannot explain it any better. This eliminates the need to remember what I had told them and having to answer the question, "But why did you tell me that...?" At the same time, I do believe that childhood is a magical time that never comes back and I don't want to be one of those humorless parents who insist on exposing their kids to the "realities of life" (in their estimation) as early as possible. And so, I continue to push the fantasy of Santa and now the Tooth Fairy.

Maybe I am making too much of this and there is no significant impact from these little lies, but I cannot help thinking that every time a child realizes that he or she had been subject to a deception, some trust is lost. It is not the sort of stuff that leads to therapy sessions or even resentment (at least I hope not), but there is still a loss. But then, maybe that is what growing up is all about: taking off the rose colored glasses.

At least in this case, the matter resolved itself. In the evening, I received a call from Malini - apparently, Arjun had found out from his friend Suraj that it was no tooth fairy that had placed the money under his pillow, but instead it was me. He was upset and confused. As is his wont, he was in tears and asked if the tooth fairy did not take his tooth, then who did? And what would happen to all the teeth? Malini consoled him and said that we would talk after I came back home. Eventually we decided that it was best to just explain the truth and not prolong the deception. It turned out to be fine - he accepted the explanation and didn't seem terribly put out. He was happy to get his tooth back - apparently what had bothered him was not the actual lack of existence of a tooth fairy, but that given this fact, there was no good explanation to what had happened to his tooth. And so goes another little rite of passage through childhood. I am thinking that, at least in our house, Santa's days are numbered.