It's strange to think that my son is somehow a criminal at the ripe old age of six and three quarters. The three quarters were important, as he used to say. He doesn't do much talking now, not with the way he's been wired up and bundled up into machines with names too long for me to remember just to keep him alive.
It's only happening because he refused to give up his first baby tooth to the tooth fairy.
He's a sensible lad, so very bright for his age and serious enough for me to lovingly call him the world's youngest pensioner. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a bad parent. I told him about the tooth fairy when his teeth first started growing, when they were all grown in and when his friends started losing theirs before him.
I tried my best to keep him safe and I failed.
He refused to believe in them and refused point blank to put his first tooth under his pillow in exchange for the tooth fairy's blessing over his bones. When they came for their payment and found nothing they took the bones in his little toe. I woke up hearing him screaming and crying over what wasnow just limp, useless flesh.
Every night they've taken another bone or two and he still refuses to tell me where his tooth is. That's all they want, it's what they were promised from the moment he was born. Every single one of his baby teeth in exchange for protection and now he has no more bones to give.
His poor little body is suspended between machines that keep his chest inflated enough so that he can breath, keep his head from collapsing and crushing his brain, force hi eyes to blink and his throat to swallow and his back to bend so that he doesn't smother himself in his sleep.
With no more bones to be stolen, I wonder what else they'll take tonight.
It's only happening because he refused to give up his first baby tooth to the tooth fairy.
He's a sensible lad, so very bright for his age and serious enough for me to lovingly call him the world's youngest pensioner. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a bad parent. I told him about the tooth fairy when his teeth first started growing, when they were all grown in and when his friends started losing theirs before him.
I tried my best to keep him safe and I failed.
He refused to believe in them and refused point blank to put his first tooth under his pillow in exchange for the tooth fairy's blessing over his bones. When they came for their payment and found nothing they took the bones in his little toe. I woke up hearing him screaming and crying over what wasnow just limp, useless flesh.
Every night they've taken another bone or two and he still refuses to tell me where his tooth is. That's all they want, it's what they were promised from the moment he was born. Every single one of his baby teeth in exchange for protection and now he has no more bones to give.
His poor little body is suspended between machines that keep his chest inflated enough so that he can breath, keep his head from collapsing and crushing his brain, force hi eyes to blink and his throat to swallow and his back to bend so that he doesn't smother himself in his sleep.
With no more bones to be stolen, I wonder what else they'll take tonight.
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