Doesn’t Everyone Have a Creepy Drawer of Teeth?

It may be time to reexamine modern-day Tooth Fairy practices

I was recently looking for a different necklace to wear. I am a basic bitch who picks one piece of jewelry to mate with for life, but for some reason I felt the need to switch it up. Probably for some uptight school event.

As I was rummaging around my jewelry drawer like a depraved squirrel looking for its one and only nut, I kept pulling up baggie after baggie of mini teeth.

This isn’t my fault. My husband was actually born on a different planet.

Every damn time I would try to throw away a tooth after the dreaded tooth fairy extrication operation that makes SEAL Team Six look like a bunch of Boy Scouts, my husband would go full Bone Collector on me.

Cool, we’ll totally keep them so I can audition for the role of (SPOILER ALERT) that serial killer chick, Amma in Sharp Objects Part II and practice building my very own dollhouse o’ teeth. So far I have enough for the downstairs.

I brushed aside the dozens of bagged teeth like it was perfectly normal and found the necklace I was looking for.

After the uptight school event, I met up with some pals for a weekly sanity check. You may call this “coffee” or “lunch.”

“So, where do you guys keep your kids’ teeth after you army crawl out of their rooms to play the original creep aka Tooth Fairy?” I decided not to waste any precious time on pleasantries.

“Ew gross! I pitch them!” offered the most reasonable one in the bunch.

“I put them in my baby book, duh!” said the one with way too much time on her hands whose kids are 10 and 12.

“I bury them in my yard,” said the one we always thought was weird.

The group fell silent and then they all turned to me and asked in perfect Stepford unison: “So where do you keep yours?”

I started to rub the back of my neck as I do when I’m about to get judged by the firing squad.

“Well, I keep them in baggies in my jewelry drawer, but it’s not because I want to. It’s my husband’s idea — you know, he just…he’s really sentimental.”

“Ewwww gross!!” exclaimed the reasonable one again.

“What’s your plan for them?” demanded baby-book Betty

“Oh I totally plan to make a tooth necklace to wear,” I declared in the snarkiest tone.

They all grimaced and sat back in their seats.

“Kidding! I have no plan for them. I just keep collecting them and I don’t know what to do with them.” I said, defeated.

“Pitch them, duh!” said reasonable friend.

“You could grind them up and put the powder into a crystal tube that you wear around your neck!” said the tooth gravedigger.

Everyone stared at her.

Baby-book Betty tried to convince me to throw everything into a Britannica-sized baby book. Pass.

We threw our hands up and moved on to more pressing topics like what would happen if a bunch of middle-aged moms jumped on the Kendall Jenner-inspired pantyhose-as-pants trend. We concluded the trend would meet an early but welcome death.

After the unproductive meeting of the minds, I concluded I had three solid options:

1) confront my sentimental, tooth-hoarding spouse

2) pitch them behind his back or

3) move them to his sock drawer.

I chose option 3.

I think it’s high-time our society reevaluates this creepy tooth-thieving ritual, but for now I enjoy listening to my spouse grunt as he rustles through the baggies of discarded chompers on his daily quest for a matching pair of socks.

At least I can find my seldom-worn necklaces more easily.