I'm not sure if many folk suffer this particular dilemna. It's something I really haven't talked about before. It could be either embarrassment or because it's completely inconsequential. I suspect the later.
But here goes. What do you do with miscellaneous molars and gnashers that you've garnered over the years as you stole into darkened rooms as the Tooth Fairy, stumbling through Lego towns and embeding prized Matchbox toys into the soles of your feet, as you approach to do the "swap"? The swap entails, searching under a heavy-headed pillow, rootling around for the tooth, then secreting it out and popping a paltry monetary sum in its place.
Simple. Once you've got the enamel and swapped it for the gold, your job as the soft-footed Tooth Fairy is over until the next wiggler makes its way out one way or t'other.
But what of the teeth? What do you do with them? One made it into my purse, and when I was offering a beggar a few coins, out rolled the molar. Oops! Grappling with the molar, I retrieved it, much to the relief of the poor woman at the receiving end, and replaced it with a more useful coin.
I was cleaning under my bed and among the dust, hairballs and dust muffs, a molar rolled out. By the time I'd figured out what it was, it had popped out of my hand, to be found on another day in Cleaning Future. Anyway, for some unknown reason I've stashed them in all manner of places, and I'm not sure why they haven't simply been binned. I mean, I have locks of hair from the boys' first cuts. I have a splendid collection of Harry's particular house of horrors. There's the piece of paper he folded into a tiny square and put into his ear (when the doctor got it out, she took it around to show her colleagues), there is the silly putty that required an emergency haircut and the straw which nearly popped his retina out when he fell over whilst holding it (I'd told him he'd choke on it, didn't realise it was a danger to his sight). But what of the teeth? I can't bring myself to toss them, I'm not sure why I have such an attachment to these rootless wonders. I'll think about it on another day.
Looking back, my last venture as the Tooth Fairy. Two eyes opened very widely, and looked the Tooth Fairy straight in the face.
"Phew! I thought the Tooth Fairy was Ben's mum."
What with Santa taking the credit for most things, it was more than a bit miffling to think Ben's mum was getting all the credit for my little monetary deposits.
Oh well, I wonder what would happen if I balanced my pillow on a little Everest of pearly whites. I'll let you know.
