People get on my case sometimes for overusing the word 'consent'. I don't blame them, however, every time I use it for something else, it is like a cog clicks into place in my brain and things work better than before.
So G (age 5) has his first loose tooth. And despite it being one of the grossest things I've dealt with as a wife and mother, it's brought up the interesting conundrum of the Tooth Fairy.
Now I adored the Tooth Fairy growing up and I still adore her today. I still want Santa to be real and the first time someone told me Santa Clause wasn't real I wanted to spit on them (funny story, the second person, I did spit at. Totally missed. It did not help my case.)
There are loads of blogs talking about the benefits and downsides to 'keeping magic alive/lying' to your children. I'm merely documenting mine so I don't forget.
G is a very smart little boy. He has the engineering brain from his grandfathers, so I know better than to water down answers for him or try to lie. However. Since gaining an imagination just shy of 4 years old (a late bloomer), he's taking stories and fears more seriously (gaining a fear of the shadowy stairwell (but not of a pitch black bedroom full of boxes)) and you can't belittle that.
I've learned by now it's no good to assume things with Gideon.
"So what do you want to do with the tooth once it falls out?"
And we begin a half-conversation of me not letting the cards show and him not wanting to guess the wrong answer and lose out on something... magical. It's how I know he still needs magic: he wants it.
I tell him a few scenarios about me keeping his teeth. I remind him about the story of Loki and his ship of toenails, teeth and hair of the dead. He can throw them away. We can make him a tooth necklace. He can invite a fairy into our home. She might not be good, I remind him. Not all fairies are good, even in stories.
"The tooth fairy is a good fairy Mom."
"I thought you said fairies weren't real."
"Well. I don't -know-. I know people who believe in fairies and've seen them but... But the Tooth Fairy is a good fairy. And I want good fairies in my life. I want as many things protecting me as I can have."
"And you feel like the tooth fairy will do that?"
"I do."
"So you want to have some magic in your life?"
"Yes please."
"Okay then. Let me know if you change your mind."
G knows that his father and my opinions on the matter only help to shape what will happen in this kind of scenario, they don't dictate it. He asks us what we think about things and we tell him and also remind him that people think differently and we explain their reasons too, as best we can.
[We arrived at 'Santa Clause is the embodiment of Goodwill towards all Humanity' and 'representative of Christ's love for us' and 'We are all Santa Clause' years ago and maintain it as such. That 'belief' is a family one, like a recipe for conduct, rather than an actual belief or tradition. ]
G needed to say yes. He needed to invite in the invasion of his sleeping space and the removal of his body part from his possession. It had nothing to do with his safety or physical health, so I ask for his consent. His input matters and it always had. He knows that if he gets passive, things will happen that he won't like, like weird dinners or Netflix viewing choices. It's a double edged sword. I don't always get what I want and have to model that graciously. -Mostly- I see that it's working. Everyone so often he'll flop to the ground and groan at me that life's not fair.
But it's not. And I agree with him. If there's room, I flop down next to him and groan too. Misery loves company. Being 5 is no exception. Feelings matter. And how we act on those feelings and on situations, matters.
So I asked for consent before I transform into the tooth fairy.
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