Do you believe in the diaper fairy?

Originally posted at:

There are big happenings around our place these days. One of them is that my eldest son Intense, who is almost 5 1/2, lost his first tooth about a month ago, and now has a second one that's very wiggly. See?

He was of course thrilled at the advent of this new stage of 'grown-upness' (it is so a word). And why shouldn't he be? In his mind, it was clearly yet another distinguishing mark of his superiority over his siblings. He was strutting around smugly, showing them all how he was a grown up now, because he would be getting his permanent teeth very soon, while they were clearly to be left in his dust and doomed to sport their deciduous teeth for all eternity.

But as excited as he was at this new and thrilling stage of mandibular evolution, that was NOTHING compared with his elation at the thought of receiving money for said tooth. About 2 seconds after Ian mentioned the whole tooth fairy schtick, Intense began to explain fervently that he was pretty sure the tooth fairy left paper money for each tooth she collects. Have I mentioned that we've been working hard on the concept of money with our homeschooling lately? The little scam artist. I extinguished that hope in a flash, but did find myself swayed by his candor at wanting to save his money 'earned' for something special, and so the tooth fairy left him a twonie. For my non-Canadian readers, that's our two-dollar coin. I remember receiving quarters, myself. What can I say, inflation's a bitch.

You might be wondering at this point what on earth any of this has to do with the title of my post. That's my (albeit somewhat awkward) segue into the concept of the diaper fairy. Does it still count as a segue if it's announced? Hmmmm, deep questions to ponder. But anyway. A few months ago our diaper pail, which we had already attempted to repair several times, finally gave up its valiant fight and decided once and for all it was time to leave this world and join the other plastics in the recycling plant. We decided at that point that we wouldn't bother investing in a new diaper pail because the hope is that one of these days one of my numerous attempts to toilet-train our two year old, Gentle Giant, will take. And our baby is already a year and a half, so the dream is that in roughly a year this house could potentially be diaper-free (at least as far as my children are concerned)!

The decision to not acquire another diaper pail naturally brought about changes to our daily diapering routine. The wet diapers were to be thrown in the garbage can, and the soiled diapers were to be brought downstairs and taken directly outside to the garbage bin. Easy enough. Except that it's freezing here now, and nobody wants to put on a coat and boots every hour to walk all the way around the back of the house, through the snow, to the bin. Clearly that's unnecessary torture, right? I assure you, it has nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that I'm lazy. Ok, maybe just a wee little tiny bit, as More is so fond of saying. So this is what ends up happening instead:

That's our front stoop, by the way. When I walk the dogs at nap time with Intense, we take however many soiled diapers have accumulated on the front step throughout the morning out back to the bin. Similarly, whenever either Ian or Mr. Fantastic arrives from work for supper, whoever arrives first will do the same.

My brother M comes out to visit us here in the boonies fairly regularly these days. Our house is for sale, so he has been lending a hand with various projects that need completing around our place. Every time he comes, he is greeted by poopy diapers on the front step that have yet to be taken to the bin. So amusing does he find it (or maybe simply to teach us a lesson in idleness?) that he has introduced to our children the concept of the diaper fairy. You see, whenever poopy diapers are left on a front porch, the diaper fairy comes to visit that home. Then he (Of course it's a he! Why should the made-up male characters get all the fun jobs like delivering presents, while the female characters are relegated to touching gross old teeth? Come on now, where's the equality in that??) leaves a quarter under the poopy diapers for the children who take said diapers out to the bin to find. A sort of motivational prize, if you will.

Now the children are elated whenever they see poopy diapers on the front step, asking if the diaper fairy has come to visit yet. That's all well and good, but this is going to end up costing me a lot in quarters. Come visit more often please, Uncle M!

What about you, do you believe in the diaper fairy?