Coco ran over to me at gym class, cupping her hand beneath her mouth to catch the pool of blood. She cried as I ushered her to the bathroom. I turned on the water and looked at the tooth hanging by a thread.

All you have to do is yank it out, I said, unrolling some toilet paper to catch the drooling spit and blood.

If it comes out then the mouse will take it! she said, dabbling the matted paper into her mouth.

The pain of pulling out the tooth was secondary to the thought that Coco would loose her tooth to a little mouse that comes in the night to take children’s teeth. I thought this mouse to be as odd as the bell in France at Easter. And why exactly are we adults charading around as fairies and mice anyway? So when I need to know the all-important things I life - I Google it. And wouldn’t you know it? It sounds like the mouse and the fairy as the one, in a way.

A long time ago in Europe, people ran around burying baby teeth as a form of good luck. Well out of this wacky tradition came a French fairy tale called “La Bonne Petite Souris.” A little mouse changes into a fairy and hides under a mean King’s pillow and bashes out his teeth every night to torment him. Then, over in the Spanish speaking countries, Ratoncito Pérez, or “ratón de los dientes” - the tooth mouse, was a character created by Luis Coloma. The Queen wanted a tale to comfort her little heir because he’d lost a tooth. Flash to present moment, and we have a little mouse hauling around a ladder and large coins, slipping unnoticed under a child’s pillow, exchanging money for enamel, and escaping in the night to the next toothless child’s bed.

As usual I am wedged between two customs, and now it looks like there’s a little French in the mix. I find myself mixing my metaphors and legends all in an attempt to ease my child’s mind that she’s just lost a part of her body and nothing else will fall out or die in the night. Over the eight teeth Coco’s lost, I’ve been known to say things like:

Well, the fairy guides the little mouse with the twinkle of a light and then the mouse hauls his little butt up the two-story building, finds a hole, does the deed, and scurries along.

Of course the little mouse knows where you live! The fairy keeps the address list!

Coco was so happy about loosing her tooth, she came screaming down the steps to tell me. Tears came down her face and her voice cracked. I held her while she gripped her tooth tightly in her palm. I waffle about what to do and say with all these culture-created tales. It has crossed my mind to tell my kids that none of these things exist. It’s all just made up.

When Coco let go of her grip on me, the mouse immediately crept into the conversation. Coco declared she is NOT giving up her tooth. She has a little bear box that holds most of the teeth. Coco doesn’t care about the money, I don’t think any kid really does, though that can become the focus. The mouse, the fairy, the bunny, I guess I see these as tools. Metaphors are delightful, useful ways to explain and decode what it is we are truly feeling. Talking about a mouse is a lot easier than putting a child on the spot and asking them exactly how they feel. And I’ve found if I stay with the moment, and reach a little further, I do get to hear what my children are worried about.

I went back to the kitchen and flipped the quesadillas. Coco followed me. Then, she jumped up and down and said:

The kids at school won’t make fun of me anymore!

I told her she was very brave as I cut her food into tiny, easy to chew chunks. I sensed the little mouse/fairy had already been by and slipped us a whole bag full of gold.