Writing the Tooth—Or, How to Find Big Ideas in Tiny Things
Jill Christman
12.2
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Before I had children, I had spent more than what I’m guessing is a normal amount of time pondering this genre of parental deception, and then along came Ella—an over-thinker like her mother before her. And in matters of the tooth fairy, five-year-old Ella wasn’t having it. She wasn’t at all sure she wanted someone (some thing?) slipping into her room while she was sleeping and she knew she didn’t want the little sprite absconding with any body parts to use as building material in a creepy fairy castle, but also? She was saving up for doll accessories. To be on the safe side, Ella left a note. Thank you for any cash you’ve got, but please don’t take my tooth.
Neither that first tooth fairy exchange nor the essay went well. Ella ended up in hysterical tears because the tooth had gotten lost in her sheets and she thought the devious fairy had taken it despite her carefully crafted note—and the anthology editor let me know, kindly, that my tooth fairy essay wasn’t quite there. Click here to continue reading. |