Our house had a visit from the tooth fairy this week, possibly for the last time. But any advance nostalgia the event might have created was overshadowed by controversy, after it emerged that the fairy had left €10: twice the normal rate.
If further emerged that this had been the amount requested by the recipient, in a covering letter which also included an inquiry as to the fairy’s name. That question remains unanswered, however, because the letter disappeared with the tooth. I suspect it’s being retained as evidence, in case of queries in the fairies’ accounts department.
The beneficiary, meanwhile, has been disarmingly cool about his windfall, as if the tenner was a foregone conclusion. This could be the touching innocence of a child, or it could be the cynicism of a nine-year-old game theorist who guessed that the fairy was vulnerable to overcompensation. It’s hard to tell.
And it may or may not have been the last visit. There are one or two more baby teeth still in play. If these are surrendered in the traditional manner, the fairy will have no choice but to cough up, although not necessarily at the current rate of inflation.
I’m not sure what the Irish average is these days. In the US, apparently, it was only $3.50 (€2.80) last year, and that was an all-time high. A dental website there monitors the annual figure, which tends to track the S&P 500 index, and has risen sharply again of late, after the dental crunch of 2008.
In any case, should the fairy have to call at our house again, I’ll be warning the recipient not to take anything for granted. Past performance is not a guide to future earnings, I’ll explain, and the value of teeth can fall as well as rise, although daily brushing for five minutes is a proven way to support the share price.
As for another famous visitor, he is again expected down our chimney this month, despite a recent crisis of faith by the same nine-year-old, when rationality briefly got the better of him.
It may be just as well, therefore, that one of the traditional grounds for scepticism – the calibre of the chimney vis-a-vis the Nordic philanthropist’s reported girth – can be easily rebuffed this year. A recent survey of Santa’s depictions on Christmas cards over the past decade suggests he has lost two stone during the period, as even he becomes more health conscious.
It’s not true, by the way, that his modern image – a jolly fat man in red and white – dates only from a 1930’s Coca Cola ad. In fact, his colours and parameters were well established by then. But to judge from latter-day depictions, he is certainly cutting down on Coke and other sugary drinks.
Living doll
The irony is that one of the most popular toys he’ll be delivering this year is a doll with larger-than-usual proportions. Lammily, as she’s called, was created as a US antidote to Barbie, with shorter legs, bigger curves, and brunette hair. You can also get stick-on freckles, acne and even cellulite, as accessories.
Her slightly weird name is just part of the wholesome image, being an amalgam of her creator, an artist called Nikolai Lamm, and the word “family”. The other key word in Lammily’s world is “average”: a condition in which she rejoices. As the website explains, her ethos is “about being true to you, and not setting any standards”.
I don’t know: far be it from me to defend Barbie, who can speak for herself (in many languages), but that sounds a bit defeatist. Even so, I won’t rush to judgement about this latest doll fashion.
I made that mistake 10 years ago, when Bratz were the big thing. They were another kind of anti-Barbie. But as I complained at the time, their outsized eyes looked like the result of drug use, and only collagen injections could explain their lips, which were thicker than Barbie’s ankles.
Those criticisms earned me a stern rebuke from a 12-year-old reader, who wrote insisting that the dolls were beautiful. And amid a crisis of conscience, I then had to channel Francis P Church, of “Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus” fame, in a follow-up column, reassuring the child.
I might have to do some reassuring closer to home this Christmas, while balancing confidence in Santa’s existence with warnings about continued austerity in Lapland.
I’m not expecting Lammily down our chimney. But if I’m asked for advice on the Santa letter’s wish-list, I may be tempted to borrow the doll’s official slogan: “Average is beautiful”.
@FrankmcnallyIT