My 7-year-old son hit the kid jackpot this week. Not only is it Christmas, the greatest experience a kid can have, but he also lost a tooth. This is like if you or I got an unexpected nap, but then also some money.
It has also been a great week for my 14-year-old daughter because she discovered how to be a loan shark.
This tooth loss was unexpected. Normally with kids, they go on for a couple of days about how the tooth is going to come out. Then they don’t want it to come out. Finally, they realize that they will get money for the tooth and can go down to the craps tables and double that money. Maybe my childhood was different. I don’t know what my kids spend money on. Maybe he likes a high stakes poker game.
My wife and I sat in bed while my son told us about all the risky bets he was going to make at the craps table with his tooth fairy money. I looked at her and she looked at me. We both came to the same conclusion. First, maybe my son has a gambling problem. But second, neither my wife and I carry cash around anymore. We didn’t have any money to give him and at 10:30 at night, I was not looking forward to going to the ATM.
Honestly, who carries around cash anymore? I have often thought that it would be easier as the tooth fairy if I could just leave my debit card number and security pin under the pillow. But as children often are untrustworthy at the craps table, this is probably a bad idea. And I know that I don’t have any change that I could scrape together in my usual places. Above the washing machine where I keep pocket change found in the laundry, or in my van coin holder. None of us have been anywhere in months and have ordered everything online.
Enter my daughter who could smell profit from her room. She waited until my youngest son went to put his tooth under his pillow and then smiled. It was a smile that I don’t remember ever seeing on her face before. There was a certainty to it. I imagine it was the same smile that Gordon Gecko gave when he just bought a company to only sell it off for parts.
“Do you have any money?” she asked my wife and me. It sounded like a sneer. The sound a lion makes before asking the little gazelle if they are having a fine evening.
“Like in life?” I asked.
“Like in right now?” she said.
“The answer to both questions is no.” I had already made up my mind that I was going to have to get dressed and hit up one of those questionable ATMs by the milk at the gas station. The kind of place where they would give me money, but that would also record all my login information and sell it to some very fine gangsters in Russia.
“I have money,” my daughter said.
“How much?” I asked.
“Enough.”
You know, at this point I should have known that I was the rube. The mark that she and her conman gambling friends were waiting for.
“Can I have some monies?” I asked her. It’s not my favorite moment as a father. No parent wants to have to ask their child for tooth fairy money. But there is also some poetic justice in this. I have calculated that if I saved the money that it has taken to raise my kids, I could give everyone in America more than $600. That’s per person, not family. You know, in case the pandemic has made things hard for them. Just a thought that maybe someone in Congress would like to think about.
“Yes, you can have money for the tooth fairy,” she said but paused to let me know that she wasn’t quite done with me yet. “But I want it back.”
“Of course,” I said.
“And more.” All she needed was to be holding a baseball bat and wearing a bowler hat to complete this shakedown.
“How much more?” I asked.
“If I give you two bucks, I want 5 back.” In my daughter’s new line of work as a loan shark, this is known as a 120% vig.
“That seems a little steep,” I said, but I don’t think she heard me from her power position. “How about I feed you?”
“How about your son wakes up with no tooth fairy money?”
There’s a lot of ways that this could have gone, but I couldn’t help but be impressed by the little capitalist in her. We are breaking glass ceilings here and maybe one day she can run her own family and break knee caps of deadbeats like me. She’s not just an opportunist, but she does it with such gusto that perhaps her future lies in the medical insurance market?
“Fine,” I said. She put the money on my desk and made sure she made eye contact with me as she did it. Total power move.
As she left, I decided that I would make her a nice big breakfast tomorrow morning. And after she’s done, give her the bill for exactly 5 dollars. I think she can cover it.
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