What is the going rate for a tooth on the Tooth Fairy Stock Exchange? Does it vary according to whether its a molar or incisor, or comes from the top or bottom of the mouth? Surely the first tooth should receive a special bonus rate, a sort of one off annuity? These questions were on my mind when I received the phone call.

“Daddy it’s fallen out.”

“Right. I’ll just grab my camera and I’ll be there in 5 minutes.”

I checked the camera for film — yes, plenty of shots left — then bolted out the door. She was staying at my parents for the weekend, which was only a few minutes by car. On the way there, I thought of how impatient she’d become over the last few weeks.

“It’s taking a long time to come out, Daddy. Janet’s already lost her first tooth and so has Annaka.”

“The first one often does darling. You could try wiggling it a bit. See if you can make it let go sooner.” My suggestion didn’t help. The tooth was indeed very stubborn.

I parked out the front and ran up the stairs to the verandah. She greeted me with her hand jutting out towards my face. In between her fingers was a tiny pearl-like object. Her grin showed a gap, and immense joy. I was so excited. In hindsight perhaps I went a bit overboard, but I was caught up by the magnitude of the occasion.

Looking through the photos now, the tooth is captured in a number of poses much like a fashion magazine shoot. There’s Sarah with the tooth in her hand from three perspectives, me with the tooth in my hand from two different angles, me and Sarah with tooth, and finally the tooth in two solo poses laying on the table. I wished I’d had a zoom or a macro feature on my camera, because as interesting as the composition is, the tooth remains a small white dot, barely visible.

“I wonder when the tooth fairy will come.” I said, turning to financial considerations.

“Mummy said when I get home, we can put it in a glass overnight.”

“So how much did mummy say the tooth fairy would bring?” Living as she did with her mum and stepdad, I wasn’t up on exchange rates for her household.

“I think she said a one dollar coin. Can I have my fairy jar back, Daddy?”

“Certainly. I’ll drop it in this afternoon.”

She had received a lovely ceramic jar from her cousin. It had a fairy standing on the lid and the words “Tooth Fairy” written around the side. She had insisted that it stay at my place, and it became the receptacle for tiny coloured stars that she used with her magic wand to make wishes and spells.

“So how does the tooth fairy swap the tooth for a coin?” I said.

“The fairy has a big bag with money in it that some elves carry for her. She puts some money in the jar then takes the tooth and gives it to another fairy to take to fairy-land.”

As a child I had been told that the tooth fairy would only come if my tooth was in a glass filled with water. I now wondered what was so significant about the water. Wouldn’t the fairies get wet trying to exchange money for the submerged tooth? Perhaps they had tiny scuba gear, or elves capable of holding their breath.

The Tooth Fairy Kingdom (or Queendom) was pretty economically dependent on young children, it seemed. I had one mystery to solve from my childhood and here was an expert to finally ask.

“And what do the fairies do with all the teeth they collect?”

“They make TV’s, fridges, tables, anything really.”