Economy devistates children all over the world: The Toothfairy files Chapter 13

The Tooth Fairy Tats 2000

Image via Wikipedia

Well, well, well….times sure are tough folks.  Here is a great example of just how tough they really are:

My son lost his first tooth this week and boy was he excited.  For once, we did not have to coerce him into going to bed.  We didn’t have to tuck him in or turn out his lights or read him a story.  Nope, not this time.  This time, he hit the sack like a champ.  Lights out, tooth under pillow, and a gapped grin spread across his sweet little face.  This was pay day-Tooth Fairy Day!

Our son is only six, but he knows quite a bit about life and it’s guarantees.  He knows that if he cusses, he gets a spanking.  He knows that if he is good, he gets to play Xbox.  He also knows that the Tooth Fairy pays top dollar for bottom teeth!  Unfortunately, our son woke up rather disappointed on Friday.

I heard him rummaging around in his room early Friday morning.  I could hear him talking to himself and I could also hear him tearing through his sheets looking for something.  Not one to miss out on his strange antics, I got up and made my way to his room.  He looked very disturbed; angry even.  I could tell that he had something on his mind, so I asked him, “Son, what’s the matter?”

“I got stiffed Dad,” he said.

“What do you mean, you got stiffed,” I asked.

“The Tooth Fairy…she didn’t leave me any money,” he shouted.  He lifted his pillow to lay proof to his claim and sure enough, there was no money to be found.  The only thing that lay under his spittle stained pillow were broken dreams.  The tooth was missing, and so was the money.

Shocked, I tried to muster up some encouraging words of wisdom to offer my sobbing child.  I had nothing.  Never in my 30 years on this earth had I heard of such an egregious circumstance.  The Tooth Fairy failed to make good on payment due!  There had to be a logical explanation.  So, like any good Father, I looked to Google for advice.

A quick search for instances of Tooth Fairy misconduct yielded astonishing results.  I clicked on the first link and found that a young couple in South America had suffered through a similar experience.  Dios Mio!  To add insult to injury, the tooth was not the only thing missing from their young Daughter’s room.  It seems that someone had also taken the poor child’s Ipod.  Despicable.

I checked another link…same story.  Tooth gone, no money, and items stolen.  Alarmed by the eerie coincidence, I rushed to my son’s room for a quick inventory of his belongings.  Sure enough, it seemed that he too was the victim of a looting.  His prized copy of Halo for the XBOX 360 was missing.  In it’s place, there was a note.  It read:

“Dear Young Man,

I regret to inform you that due to dismal returns on my investment portfolio and a string of poor choices of a personal nature, I am unable to reimburse you for your lost tooth.  I have, none-the-less, taken said tooth; as it is my inherant duty to ensure that it finds it’s way to it’s final resting place.  It saddens me even further to inform you that I have had to take the liberty of ascertaining one of your video games.  I do hope that I chose one that you don’t often play.  I pray that you hold no ill feelings towards myself or any other variety of fairy.  Our people are in dire financial straights, as we do not qualify for governmental assistance or any social recovery programs.  I did, however, petition President Obama to support a program entitled ‘Cash For Molars,’ but he laughingly declined.  Do not discount the resilient nature of fairy folk.  We will prevail through these difficult times.  My uncle, the Toenail Fairy, has already seemed to have  had some luck in emerging markets.  On a final note, I hope that you are not overly fond of the upcoming holiday, Halloween.  I hear that the Pumpkin King has been incarcerated for selling bootleg DVDs.  It seems that he is unable to make bail.  Best Wishes.  The Tooth Fairy.”

I hope that the economy bounces back soon.  I couldn’t live without Peeps!


OB/GYNs are Peeping-Toms

Lounging around the womb.

Hello Folks. Yesterday I accompanied my lovely wife to the doctor’s office to take a sneak peek at the kiddo in utero, and boy what a cool little ‘field trip’ that turned out to be. For those Dudes out there who have never had the pleasure of spying on a fetus, I’ll give you the down and dirty…

The first thing that happens when you arrive for your appointment is the pregnant woman (we are going to call her Momma) gets her vitals checked out. It is important to make sure that Momma is on track with blood pressure and weight gain. We don’t want the baby to be hungry or tweaked out, so a quick check of the vitals is imperative. Everybody loves a chunky baby, right?

Next, Momma gets interviewed by the Nurse. There is a long list of questions that the nurse reads out, which I can only guess was written by a military interrogator. I’m not quite sure what some of these questions had to do with pregnancy, but if anyone can tell me what “when was the last time that you ate a peanut butter sandwich after watching the episode of Grey’s Anatomy when Izzy over-sympathized with a dying patient?” has to do with incubating babies, please let me know.

After the nurse is happy with the answers to all of the questions, you are moved to an examination room. Here is where things start to get a little interesting. There is a small television monitor plugged into an outlet alongside the exam table. This is the ultrasound machine. This nifty gadget is what the Ol’ Sawbones uses to photograph and monitor the baby. I’m not entirely sure how this device works, but I assume that it runs on the same principals as SONAR. Like a mighty Spruance Class Destroyer tracking down Soviet subs, this precision instrument pings sound waves through the soft tissue of Momma’s belly and gets a return off of the baby, which is displayed on the screen for our viewing pleasure. I wish that I could have been given free reign over that apparatus for fifteen minutes. I could have literally looked into some bodily mysteries that have always eluded me, but that is for another forum. Back to the baby…

Next, the Doc squirts some aloe-vera type stuff all over Momma’s belly and begins to rub a probe around until we get a good heartbeat from the baby. This part can be particularly stressful. I find this akin to an elderly man scanning the beach with a metal detector, patiently canvassing miles of sandy shoreline, listening for that sweet soft beep. Once you have located the baby’s heartbeat, you are ready for the fun to begin, but do not let the brevity of this description fool you, dear readers. It can take an awful long time to pinpoint the baby’s tiny heartbeat. I don’t know where our little gremlin (this is a pet name, I assure you) could have possibly been hiding, but it must be part ninja because it dropped a fetal smoke bomb and disappeared for a good two minutes. Vanished. Kapoof. After a couple of very long minutes of searching, we found it and relaxed a little. We still had a few things left to do; we had to get a look at our little miracle and do a little prenatal paparazzi-ing.

Once the heartbeat is found, it’s face time. This is when you get up-close and personal with the baby. The Doc switches out the previously used probe for a small instrument that looks like a paddle. This is used to peer through Momma and into Baby. The Doc moved that paddle all around my wife’s belly until she found the ‘sweet spot’ where we could get the best look at our new addition. Now, my wife is only 13 weeks along, so I wasn’t really prepared for what I was about to see. I expected to see a little tadpole-ish dude or dudette looking up at me like an alien who has been trapped inside my wife and cannot figure out how in the heck it got there. Boy was I wrong! The little person that appeared on the screen before me actually looked like a tiny little human. Not a tadpole, not an alien, but a human being. Granted, I couldn’t see a lot of details and this machine was definitely not an HD Sony Bravia, but I could certainly ascertain that this little guy looked a lot like me. It already had arms. It had legs. The little chap had the whole kit and caboodle! From what the Doc said, the only body part that has not formed at this point is the lungs, but it’s all gravy because the baby uses Momma’s blood for oxygen. Kind of spooky, like we have a sparkly little Edward incubating in my wife! Living on blood…yuck.

Back on topic. I’m pretty sure that the baby takes after me because we have a tiny show off on our hands. As soon as we got a good view of the fetus, it started cart wheeling all over my wife’s placenta. This baby was dropping it like it was HOT! We could see the little arms moving. The hands were opening and closing, the feet kicking, the booty shaking. Our kiddo was a rockin’. I must admit that this was a pretty cool experience. The Doctor takes some snapshots of the baby while explaining what you are looking at on the screen. The pictures, kind of like second rate Polaroids, are printed out of the bottom of the machine. Just like the photo booth at the mall, but free! Either way, the snapshots never really come out exactly like what you are actually looking at on the screen. The picture labeled “Baby’s Head and Arms” came out of the printer looking like a dragon that was attacking a medieval castle, but we accepted the portraits none-the-less.

The last thing that the doctor does is some measuring. Doc uses a digital tape measure to figure out if the baby is on the right track, growth wise, and lets you know the age. Cool stuff. Our baby looked good to go, so we were both very happy. All in all, it was a great experience. I enjoyed spying on our little one. Now we are waiting for our next visit when we get to see if my superior genetics have produced another son or if my wife’s secret prayers have been answered for another daughter (I know you want another girl Baby!) Either way, I’m glad that all was quiet on the “southern front”. Until next time, stay classy.

This is the measurement of the baby's head.

2010 Name That Twin Contest

Well folks, today marks the day for the first annual Name That Twin Campaign. The rules are simple. You must tag my twin brother Jeremy and I each with a fitting nickname. Sadly, most of you out there do not know us. In actuality, this is a post that is none-to-covertly aimed at getting under my dear brother’s skin. Either way, if you would like to play, please feel free to chime in. The contest will run for seven days and will be open to anyone who can bang out a coherent entry on their keyboard. I will announce the winner on my blog in seven days.

I have come up with my own entry to start things off. Don’t worry, I will try not to be biased when judging, but I am fairly certain that my entry will win.

Here is my entry:

Me: The Professor

Jeremy: The Chimp

***Disclaimer-my brother is not actually a primate, but in some circles I am considered a professor.***

What do you folks think? It is kind of catchy, huh? I imagine that it will make conversations regarding my brother and I much more interesting. For example:

“Wow, did you see the pictures that The Chimp took this weekend at Vikki’s wedding?”

“What? Vikki hired a Chimp to photograph her big day? I knew that she and Bill were struggling, but jeez louise.”


“Did you hear that The Professor is now living in Japan?”

“I did. I also heard that The Professor and his wife are expecting their third child.”

“The Professor is awesome.”

“I know. He is, isn’t he.”

I tell you what folks, nicknames sure can spice things up. I am looking forward to some interesting entries. Good luck and hope to hear from you soon. Let the fun begin!

Brother, this one’s for you!

I figured that I would tell you folks a little about my twin, Jeremy.  He, after all, inspired the name of this blog.  There are many stories that I could tell, but I’ll just share one today.  First, a little background information…

Twenty-nine years ago, I shared a tiny room with the young fetus that I now call my brother.  For nine long months, our budding elbows and knees fought turf wars in the womb of our dear mother.  On a glorious night in October of 1980, I bid my womb-mate farewell and entered this world, leaving him to his own devices.  One hour and twelve minutes later, he followed, stealing the spotlight for the first of many times.  It seemed that his arrival was much anticipated, even the doctors cheered as he emerged from hiding.  A side note:  I have always been a practical type and cannot quite understand why our lovely mother bears no ill feelings towards him for procrastinating so, while she lay miserable, on a hospital gurney.  He can be quite charming, I guess.

Throughout our younger years, Jeremy and I were practically inseparable.  We didn’t even call each other by name.  We simply called each other Brother.  Cute, huh?  He was, I admit, a little bit smarter than I, though I was no dummy.  I just seemed easily suckered into his penchant for mischief and tomfoolery.  Jeremy has a devilish twinkle in his eye that, to this day, could lead me straight into the oncoming traffic of trouble.  Now, don’t get me wrong.  Jeremy is not evil; not even close.  He just inspires that little red dude on your left shoulder to prod you with his minuscule pitchfork into doing things that you know could end poorly.  Here’s an example:

When I was about six, my brother and I saw a show on television that was all about the space program.  It had astronauts, moonwalks, space shuttles; things that would excite any kid.  I remember wanting to be an astronaut so badly that I could taste the moon rocks.  I would sit in my room at night and pretend that my bed was a space pod.  I spent hours zipping past alien planets, rescuing little ladies from moon bandits, and doing all kinds of cools space stuff.  My brother had gotten pretty keen on my infatuation and he decided to twist it to fancy his amusement.  He convinced me that the dryer, which I didn’t even know existed in our cramped family laundry room, was a tiny space shuttle, one of the Kenmore fame.

“Just look at the air tight space hatch on this baby.”  My brother was smart.  He pulled the square door open.  “There is no telling where you could go in something like this.”  He was one heck of a salesman.

“You know what Jeremy, ”  I said.  A dim little light bulb flickered over my cow licked head.  “I’m gonna take this thing for a spin.”  How true that statement ended up to be!

I donned my space helmet, a vegetable strainer, and tumbled into the dryer.  Before my brother sealed the air lock, I reminded him to give me a proper countdown.  “That,” I added, “is very important.”

“Ten, nine, eight, seven…” Jeremy counted very well for a six year old.  “six, five, four, three, two, one, BLASTOFF!”

Nothing.  I heard him fumbling with the controls on top of my shuttle.  Finally, something began to happen.  I could feel gravity shifting all around me.  This is amazing, I thought.  Very quickly, it began to get hot inside of my exploration vehicle, probably from breaking the sound barrier.  I remember getting very dizzy.  Moments later, limp as a sock, my mother was pulling me from the dryer.  I remember getting a spanking as my brother explained that he tried his darnedest to stop me.  He also mentioned that he feared that I was ‘slow’ and should be held back a year in grade-school.

Thanks for that one Jeremy.  I still get nervous around laundromats.

Bad news, good news, and how a crow delivered a story idea.

Bad news...

What a difficult weekend!  My daughter has been in and out of the ER for the last couple of days, dealing with an injured shoulder, so my wife and I have been kind of stressed out.  Currently, I am not home (I am quite a ways away), so my poor wife has had to bear this burden all by herself, with my support solely through Skype or via cell phone.  I wish that I could be there for them in person, but I cannot.  Thank God that we have a good cellular plan.  Go Softbank!

Since my wife is keeping me posted via cell phone, I spent a few hours in the park today awaiting updates from home.  The signal inside of this massive steel warship is non-existent, so the park on base became my mobile command post.  Before leaving the ship, I packed my book, grabbed my Sony Mylo, stuffed my cell phone in my pocket, and headed to the park.  On the way, I made a quick stop at Starbucks and purchased a mocha-something-or-other-frappuccino.

Once at the park, I located a nice park bench and began to construct my command and control center.  After I was satisfied with the set up, I kicked back and waited for my phone to ring, providing an update on our daughter’s status.  Enjoying the sun shining down on me through the trees, I settled into the book that I am currently reading, ironically (you’ll soon find out) entitled Crows and Cards.

Good News.

After about an hour of reading, I phoned my lovely wife for an update.  The doctors examined the x-rays and have decided that our daughter’s arm is not fractured!  Great news, although she is still in a lot of pain.  Poor thing.  With that good bit of news, I resumed reading.
How a crow delivered a story idea.

While reading my book, I noticed a lot of aerial shenanigans in my peripheral vision.  I lowered the book from in front of my handsome roman nose (my nice way of saying big) and directed my attention towards the escapades unfolding all around me.  I was suddenly aware of swarms of crows and sea-hawks, giving the resident pigeons a ration of you-know-what.  The crows were diving down towards the pigeons, followed by the graceful and predatory dive of the sea-hawks.

After watching a few unsuccessful dives by the crows and sea-hawks, I realized that the pigeons were scattering in every direction of the compass each time an attacker dove to strike, causing mass confusion among the birds of prey.  It seemed that the vulnerable pigeons had found strength in numbers.  How intelligent these rats of the sky seem to be!

In the heat of battle, an evil crow decided upon a ‘kamikaze’ attack directed towards the pigeons and almost ran into the bench that on which I was sitting.  If it wasn’t absolutely silly, I would swear that the bird was after the shiny ipod that lay by my side.  The wayward crow screamed towards a pigeon, pulled up a little late, and grazed my bench; pointy claws scraping at my nano!  All of a sudden, I was struck by an idea for a story.  Fantastic.  It was truly an inspiration from above.

I guess that is enough excitement for one day.  I will update you folks on our daughter’s status as soon as I can.  I think that she is will be alright, but she’s going to be in pain for a few days.  Wish us luck…