On finding the tooth fairy’s home
So today was quite a nice day in terms of British autumnal weather, so I decided to do some gardening for my mum. One of the reasons I’m here is because she’s not currently able to do a lot of manual work, so it seemed only fair that I burn off some of the lunchtime Sauvignon Blanc raking up the blanket of wet leaves suffocating the lawn, and pruning deadheads while the children ran riot in the garden, drinking in the fresh air and wearing themselves out for bedtime.
And, as I raked up piles of leaves from the old oak tree, I discovered a couple of teeny-tiny mushrooms encircled by a ring of lush, green grass. Knowing that DD is close to discovering the non-existence of the tooth fairy thanks to her more worldly-wise friends, I decided to get my bid in early.
“Come and see where the fairies live!” I shouted, and over she came, eyes wide with wonder.
“They really live there?” she asked, looking at the mushrooms no bigger than my pinky finger’s nail. “I want to see them!”
“Yes this is their home,” I said very seriously. “But they only come out way after everyone’s asleep. How lucky is granny to have this in her garden?”
DD was genuinely struck with awe. Really, we don’t get mini-mushrooms on our artificial lawn in Dubai. This was a big thing.
But, as she scuttled away to write about it in her holiday diary, my mum came over. “Oh,” she pff-ed, rolling her eyes at the magical grass ring. “I can tell you what that is. That’s where a fox did a wee on the grass.”