The most I ever received from the tooth fairy when I was a child was a mere ten cents. Through the generations, however, losing teeth has become much more lucrative. I could sympathize with my son when my grandson lost a tooth and the tooth fairy was unprepared. The twenty-dollar bill that was left under his pillow gave him and his siblings totally unreasonable expectations.
While my grandkids are investing their tooth fairy proceeds in mutual funds, I’m reminded that being sick was my only hope for extra spending money. In fact, I was never as wealthy as when I was unhealthy. The year I got the whooping cough I made a small fortune. A mother of three kids could be blackmailed into a payoff if you put up a large enough fuss about taking medicine, especially if you knew how to draw the blood away from your face by pressing your buttocks together, roll your eyes convulsively, and gasp, “I won’t take that poison for any money in the world.” “Money” was the first clue. If Mama didn’t go for the bribe, you continued with “I’d rather die first.” “Die” was the second clue. You knew she wouldn’t let you die. “Here’s a penny. Take the medicine.” You could figure out how sick you were by how high your mother would go. I was once so sick they let me hold a quarter in my hand for a half hour. It brought my temperature down immediately.
Relatives who visited our home could be counted on for a present of a penny---a hard-earned penny. Uncle Ernest would affectionately twist my cheek between his thumb and forefinger, clockwise, until my right eye moved up to my hairline and the left down to my chin, slowly but firmly extracting my molars while checking on my character.
“Are you a good girl?”
I tried to answer, with my tongue now where my nose used to be. “Yes, Ahma goo guh.”
“You listen to your mother?”
“Allatime lishen m’mudder.”
“You good in school?”
“Velly goom niskool.”
And I stood there hemorrhaging, swallowing blood and pride, taking it all, never daring to hold out a hand (that would be begging), while Daddy would say, “They don’t need money.” Maybe HE didn’t need it.
Uncle Ernest came through. Blood is thicker than water.
“Did you say ‘thank you’ to Uncle Ernest?”
“Fank shoe, Uncle Uhnst.”
Money never seemed to come from my parents, though. Threatening Daddy certainly didn’t work. “Give me a nickel or I’ll run away from home!”
“I won’t give you a penny, and you can take your brother with you.”