The Tooth Fairy

Last week I had my first run in with the tooth fairy and I should kick her glitter butt from here to never-never-again-land.

Wait, back up.

A few weeks ago I reported to all my facebook friends that Kat was losing her first baby tooth. *sob sob* another milestone *sob* what’s a friggin milestone and why can’t we change it to a kilometresign? *sob*

Lot’s of nice suggestions on how to get the wiggle tooth all the way out but the problem was no amount of wiggling was making a difference. Even watching The Wiggles while wiggling the tooth didn’t wiggle it out. In twitter terms that’s a #wigglefail.

All the while a massive white pointer that was literally white and pointy, was poking up from the fluidy pink recess behind Kat’s bottom teeth. Soon it was too large to be ignored. My daughter was growing in her adult teeth behind her baby teeth. She would have two rows of teeth and they would call her “shark girl”.

Deciding on a dentist is hard work too. I’m not a big fan of dentists, they tend to come at you while you’re wide awake with metal instruments and try and stick them in your mouth. It is barbaric. I don’t care how shiny those metal tools are.

A dentist was finally chosen with a website that smacked of unnecessary luxuries like the possibility of a cappuccino while you waited on red velvet lounges and could be entertained by a multimedia collection of your choosing while being massaged by Arabian monks.

Unfortunately cross referencing Saint Smiley Dentist with my insurance company revealed no joy. Kat would be booked into the local dentist/medical centre that boasted a 6inch plasma on the wall and free water.

Walking into that clinic for the first time was like walking into a familiar nightmare. I think parents have to be so brave for the sake of their children and it sux. There I said it.

“This is going to be fun Kat, you wait til you see all the um, fun stuff that the dentist will show you.”

Fortunately for both of us the dentist we lucked in with was lovely as was her assistant. They gave Kat some funky pink and purple sunglasses so she couldn’t really see the shiny steely metal implements of doom coming towards her mouth. These were not mentioned on the features list for this dentist and clearly should’ve been as Kat thought they were great.

So as her pleasure at her new look continued unabated I was told by the dentist in no uncertain terms that Kat’s teeth were coming in too early and would need to be pulled out one by one if her jaw growth didn’t catch up. Lovely dentist lady was quickly turning into Madam Dentist of Doom.

“So my daughter eats meat off the bone and chews leather boots for breakfast – of course she needs her adult teeth now and not 2 years from now. Can’t you accommodate that without pulling her teeth out???”

Apparently not. So my sweet girl had her first needle in the gum and plier pull. To her credit and my absolute amazement she didn’t cry/flinch or even declare that she hated me forever and would never go back to a dentist. In fact, she happily chatted through the whole procedure. Oblivious to the cruel manipulations going on in her tiny mouth.

“Here you go darling. I’ll put this in a little bag for you to take home to give to the toothfairy” – Dentist Doom says. Great now I have to contend with a fairy on top of nearly passing out when I saw you go in for the pull.

The excitement complemented with a kids magazine and a milkshake and a balloon or two, by bedtime the high fell quickly into a dead sleep. This also allowed that naughty fairy to come and take Kat’s tooth. Three x $1 coins all shiny and gold (to overset those shiny silver dentist tools) were left in a special tooth fairy pillow. And a very over excited and milestone marking fairy sprinkled her golden glitter all over the pillow too. Magic happens right?

Oh the heady magic of midnight activities.

So my first run in with the tooth fairy ended in the cool white light of morning reflecting off every piece of glitter that had “magically” spread from the tooth pillow into Kat’s hair, onto her sheets, all over the floor, right through the house, up into our bed and into my hair and David’s too.

Of course the bouncing giggling toothless grin of our four year old,
holding her bounty and the glitter coated tooth pillow was probably worth it all… but never never again.

Un Social Media

I’ve been motivated by a particularly snotty nose (not snooty, snotty) to write about unsocial media. This is a thoroughly unresearched, unscientific, long and deeply undebated piece of rubbish.

Basically there is a theory that says everything moves in cycles. The example that comes to mind is my flippant understanding of “The Gothic Mode” a pseudo-intelligent and yet farcical exploration of literature in high school English. See in that module we studied three novels Turn of the Screw, Northanger Abbey and The Castle of Otranto. The latter is deemed the first gothic novel ever written and it is filled with princes, haunted castles and flying codpieces(?). Austen’s Abbey was said to be a parody of the gothic novels, poking fun at all of their conventions and making young readers desire more reality in what they read. Jame’s Turn of the Screw was a return to something more of a spook genre, tempting readers with something halfway between unlikely and likely. This in between state was also thought to be the scariest evolution.

So I don’t remember the details but what stuck with me is that when it comes to what the masses favour in terms of entertainment, it will certainly move like a swing between extremes. Does it evenutally evolve into something else, yes but that is potentially the scariest option of the two prior positions taken.

ImaMacImaPC.

Now it is “social media” and the argument is that it is here to stay because humans are social and we want to socialise and build networks and blah blah blah. Yes, it all sounds good from one point of view. But is it really social? We have more people online than ever before chatting to people all over the world and building happy little groups of special interest and forming cliquey little clubs about this and that. But you know what I see? I see more people on buses buried in their laptops, in their ipods, in their iphones, in their online networks, in their great “i”. I see the tops of more heads coming towards me than faces. Less smiles, more pokes?

I have a feeling the great UN social is coming. I think that unless we can drive online right off the road and off the line and into someone’s backyard for a bbq.. then the swing is going to be all out of sync and perhaps land us in a much scarier place than we dreamed at the heights of social media fancy.

And it is a bit like reality tv. From the time Big Brother assaulted me, I was addicted to reality tv right through until whatever iteration of Australian Idol we are up to now. Now, I want fantasy. I want Merlin and Lost and creatures of myth and amazement. I don’t care if someone gets a wizard designer makeover.. I want some un-real-life wizards please.

The problem is that once you have a form of entertainment whether it is “reality tv”, “gothic fiction” or “social media”, you may use it, you may parody it, but you can never really abolish it. So it makes me wonder what the un of social media will be. Given NRMA’s insurance campaign, I might just go ask them, so I can un-worry.

Drugs or otherwise known as…

I can’t talk about particular companies and certainly can’t name names because everything I hear is hearsay and everything I say is nay-saying. But I have been scared by a culture of drug use that slips by un-scandalised in the corporate sector. Is this because the media sits in partnership with this sector? I wonder about that quite a lot. Because for some reason it is ok to be a drug user under your white collar.

I am not talking about rock and roll or celebrity or sports. I am not talking about the junkies in the street. I am talking about those with the position and means to treat drug use as something for the privileged. Perhaps it is their little bit of “bad” in the world of good they think they do. Or perhaps it is their little bit of  “naughty” to all those nice fake smiles they need to produce. A bit of “illegal” to all the legal bars they need to jump. I am sure their justification is way more justified than anyone else’s right?

I know that I have only caught a glimmer of it. Like spotting the flick and shine of slippery fish. Perhaps I’ve only half seen half a dozen, perhaps there is a whole school out there. I think it is wrong but maybe I am just a fish out of water.

And who am I to point at drug users when I am lining up for cocktail Friday? That is a conflict. Maybe I am just as bad as those that I shake my thoughts at. All I know is that if you’re in marketing then you know how to call a spade a vase.