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The Tooth Fairy visited a year or so ago for the first time when H had her front tooth taken out in hospital. I don’t expect any future visits for another year or so.

However, H has a reading book with school she’s brought home which is a story about the Tooth Fairy – a child makes a clay tooth so gets a toy coin and mummy is really obviously in on it. His big sister got a coin when her real tooth came out in an apple.

It was tricky.

It keeps the myth going, but then there’s the questions afterwards.

“Mummy, I’m sure this story had them visiting the Tooth Fairy” said H

I replied that it wasn’t possible as the Tooth Fairy is pretend. Except I realise what I’ve said and backtrack (successfully) saying it’s magic and isn’t in the story. H is far more concerned about the story than a lack of Tooth Fairy in real life.

I think I got away with it.

Until.

“mummy, do you know where the Tooth Fairy lives?”

Things were so much easier when she couldn’t read. These days I have to tell the truth and sometimes that can be difficult when you’re telling an even bigger lie overall. My answer?

“ask your daddy” – at least it gives me five minutes of breathing space to think of a proper answer back that will satisfy her almost-five-year-old curiosities. Sigh. Fortunately I think she was distracted enough to forget she asked the question in the first place. Good work, me.