While I’m away, on vacation, I thought it might be nice to revisit some old friends. Or rather, old enemies. This post is Part Two of the Tooth Fairy Chronicles originally published on Snickerpants.com.
Oh dear lord.
Currently, I am chewing my way through a 7PACK! BuBBLE GUM (the vaguely orange/diabetes flavored one) from Marukawa. I am not happy about this but it appears, I have no choice.
Remember way back, when I was a complete ass and forgot about the Tooth Fairy? And so I tried to make up for it by inventing a secret scroll with a message in invisible ink and hidden treasure?
Well, after Catfish came home that day (but but BEFORE he found the secret scroll) he ran to his room to see if the Tooth Fairy finally remembered his tooth. But he didn’t find anything, and by “anything” I mean “his tooth” I also mean “any money either”
His tooth was GONE and that thieving fairy hadn’t left a single red cent. Nothing.
This time, he cried, big fat crocodile tears.
He was so sad that I almost told him to go check the mail with his dad – in order to get the ball rolling on the whole explanation thing. But I resisted. I knew that if I urged him then, I would endanger everything I had worked for, he would become suspicious.
He is a very suspicious kid.
So I sat there and watched as he was heart-wrenchingly disappointed, yet again, by the stupid Tooth Fairy. Brian and I pretended to look for his tooth and then (this was the hardest part) refrained from making a big deal over the fact that the Tooth Fairy was being a total jerk. We blamed the missing tooth on Katzu and changed the subject as fast as we could.
“Hey! Who wants to open up that sidewalk paint set?”
That worked, depending on your definition of “worked”. Our front stoop is now covered in a half-assed pattern of Spongbob-Squarepants-Yellow blobular anchors. Whatever. At least it took his mind off his disappointment.
(Excuse me while I switch over to the Strawberry gum. I think the Orange flavor is making my tongue go numb…)
Finally, enough time had elapsed. I jumped at my chance (slyly though because, as I have said, Catfish has been known to be suspicious of his mom. I cannot imagine why).
“Brian? Have you got the mail yet?”
Amazingly enough, he had not! Catfish jumped up and asked if he could go get the mail too because, when you’re six, it’s a huge deal if you’re allowed to get the mail and your little sister is not.
Thirty seconds later, Catfish came screaming up to the front porch.
We read it together. Well, Brian read it. I was actually a little embarrassed and didn’t want to read it out loud. Because I’m like that. He’s six and I was worried he wouldn’t like the damn story.
(The Strawberry kind was actually sort-of okay, until now. Excuse me once more.)
Then something happened that I did not foresee. This is a failure on my part because as I have said before, our house is in a constant state of Red Alert: Code GET-DOWN-THERE’S-A-NINJA-BEHIND-YOU!
Not a day goes by that we aren’t knee deep in ninjas, skeletons, aliens, bad guys and (for some reason) Strawberry Shortcakes. It’s a miracle we can go from one room to the next without being detonated, decapitated or defenestrated. There are bad guys literally everywhere – and that evening, one of them threatened to rob our house.
Clearly, this was a call to action.
(I could have gone my entire life without tasting the FUSEN GuM flavor. It tastes like a vanilla soap dish. Seriously, what the hell is that supposed to be?)
For the past 48 hours we have been in lock-down. Catfish has told everyone that will listen about Finkmeister. He’s not picky. Anyone willing to look at him for half a second has been informed about Finkmeister and just exactly what he is going to do in order to catch him.[Our dear Admiral Sparkle-Punch, on the other hand, has been demonstrating what she intends to do if she ever lays her hands on that Finkmeister. Let me just say that it is both adorable and somewhat disturbing to watch her pummel her little fist into her palm like that.]
Catfish must have been planning his revenge on Finkmeister all day long because as soon as we got home this evening, he set to work building a trap “just like Fred”
As in Fred Jones…from Scooby Doo. Because apparently, my kids think they are in an episode of “Scooby Doo Ninja Fairy Goblins – with Traps!” Or something.
He went about his business diligently and, in a short while, had a basic box trap set up, complete with a stick and a really long piece of string to yank it away. It’s blurry, but here is the only picture we could get without arousing suspicion:
Please note that the trap is baited with $0.45 – two dimes and a quarter – because Finkmeister loves to steal money.
(OMG THE GREEN APPLE IS HORRIBLE. WHY WOULD ANYONE CHEW THIS GUM?!?)
Admiral Sparkle-Punch lost interest in the Finkmeister trap early on and wandered in to help me make dinner – but Catfish stayed. It was dark by the time he finally finished his overnight version of the trap. He made it so that it could be set off by the motion of Finkmeister’s nefarious dealings.
This is what he came up with:
The money ($0.45) is in the back of the yogurt box. If Finkmeister tries to go in there, he will jostle the box, causing the stick to fall and the box to drop. I’m not entirely sure what the wooden sword is for – either to chop off Finkmeister’s head or to make enough noise to wake Catfish up so that he can spring in to action.
(Wow, grape tastes kinda chloroformy.)
Every ten minutes or so, until bedtime, Catfish snuck up next to me and whispered:
“Mom, can I go outside and check my trap?”
FYI: The answer was always a subtle ‘yes’ with a nod.
I cannot let things go on like this.
As the responsible parent, I must do the right thing. I need to teach my child the value of… stuff and how to be compassionate and…stuff. Which is why, after I chew this last piece of bubble gum (the dreaded peach flavor) I am going outside to ruin my son’s trap by punching a hole in it. Then I’m going to steal my son’s money ($0.45) and leave tell-tale signs of that dastardly Finkmeister in my wake:
Chewed up bubble gum and spiders.