Thursday, 16 June 2011

In Hindsight, The Hippo Molar Was A Mistake

I was an intelligent child. I know you might find that hard to believe now, but bear with me. I'm actually pretty smart (something I will prove once I stop crashing into things, topping up my wine with Ribena and dancing around the kitchen holding Roland in a waltz position and informing him through spoken word rap that he fills up my senses like a night in the forest. I just wish he'd let me lead for once) and that became obvious fairly early on.

My parents therefore treated me, on the whole, as a very short adult most of the time, but it meant that occasionally they would forget that I was actually a child. One particular memory stands out from this as what I like to think of as The End Of Innocence. We all have this - some instant from childhood where you suddenly realise that the world is actually not the glorious, happy place you thought it was. For most kids, this involves Santa, and I was no different. At the tender age of 7, I came home from school one day to find my parents standing about in our living room looking rather worried.

Me: Hi. Has someone died?

Mum: What? No! Just... sit down, will you?

I sat obediently.

Mum: Er... (looking with desperation at my dad, who was eyeballing the ceiling) Listen. You might have heard your friends talking about something in the playground, and we just wanted to talk to you about it.

Me: Like what? Like sex? People talk about that.

Mum: (horrified) No! Not that!

Me: Oh. What then?

Mum: Like...Santa.

She winced, as if waiting for an explosion. I stared at her in growing confusion.

Me: What about him?

Mum: Well. He''s....some of your friends might have said that, um...

Me: (gently) Mum. I know Santa isn't real.

Mum: (with immense relief) Oh thank god!

Me: Of course he isn't real! No one could deliver presents to everyone all over the world in one night. That doesn't make sense. It's ridiculous.

Mum: Right. Right. I'm so glad, we were worried you'd be upset.

Me: No. I've known for ages that you were lying to me.

Mum: (uncomfortably) Well see, the thing is, it's not a lie, exactly. It's something parents tell their children to make the world a better, more fun place. All these things, like Santa, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy-

Me: Wait, what?

My dad, sensing impending doom with the trained instincts of a man born to survive, began to edge towards the door.

Mum: What?

Me: (lip beginning to tremble) Did you say the Tooth Fairy isn't real?

Mum: (wild-eyed in fear) Um...

Me: How can the Tooth Fairy not be real? She brings me money! You can't just...I don't believe this!

Mum: We thought you knew! (looking at my dad, who by now has managed to edge almost completely out of the room) You come back here!

Me: (wailing) How can she not be real? Where do the teeth go?!

Mum: I kept them.

Me: (horrified) You KEPT my TEETH? That's sick!

Mum: Okay, this is not going how I thought it would.

Dad: I told you we should have got someone else to do it.


  1. My dad STILL has my teeth. In a box. On his dresser.

    Yeah, parents are weird.

  2. Yep, Mum still has mine. I mean, is that normal? Really?

  3. I'm not sure if Mum still has mine, but I realised the tooth fairy wasn't real when I found my teeth in a little box in her dresser. I was a very nosy child.

  4. I found out in one fell swoop what the terrible truth was about Santa, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy. I was one of six children, so my parents just forgot, and the lies fell like dominoes one terrible afternoon.

  5. LOL! That's hilarious! That's where parents always go wrong (myself included). We just keep rambling when we should stop.

  6. My mate had all her teeth in a little box in her room - and STILL got money from the tooth fairy, who apparently paid to see them, like at a museum. 0_o

  7. I love that this has brought up so many horrific childhood memories :D

    Jen - I like that you were so positive in your response to the teeth in a box with no explanation. I would have assumed my parents were serial killers, but then that's just me...

    Trish - that sounds like a blog post I definitely want to read! My birthday is coming up. I'm just saying. These are facts.

    A Very Unique Jennifer - Never try to fill the silence with your children when it gets uncomfortable. Nothing good can ever come of it. Trust me on that one.

    Liz - a museum for fairies?! This might actually be the best comments on any post I've ever had. Just...what the sodding hell? I love it.

  8. Just say Hello to all, and offcourse especially to the owner on this blog. what can i say that this blog is very vital it is very helpful in my blog too. :)

    do check it

    Quick Money

    Thank you add comment too :)

  9. Children's teeth collected are a mighty powerful magic.... according to Terry Pratchett anyho0.. and he MUST be right! :)

    Maybe this is your parent's way of trying to exercise subconcious mind control over you all muhahahahaha.

    Also, tho I'm sure you'll have deleted it the spam post above this one amuses me basically saying "hello owner of this blog. it is good. mine is also. go to it here to make $$$", A. Fucktard.

  10. This smacks of the time I was in some kind of (evidently sick) gift shop and there were these little boxes you could buy and in which you could your child's umbilical-cord stump.

    Actually, I now realize the post was not about this at all. But. Too late now.

    (I found out about Santa by looking him up in a dictionary. THANKS, MERRIAM-WEBSTER. WAY TO SUPPORT THE YOUTHS.)

  11. Kate - that is just awful! But you were a precocious little thing, I'm guessing!

    I fear the day my kids find out I'm lying to them. We use these fake dudes to bribe them year round! "If you don't pick up your toys, I'm calling Santa!" [in July]