A Paul Harvey Moment

If you're not familiar with Paul Harvey, please allow me to enlighten you. Mr. Harvey is approximately 156 years old. He's a broadcaster/commentator/political pundit who has a feature called "The Rest of The Story", in which he begins by recounting an ordinary tale of some random person in their daily life. Then, he shifts gears and announces, "And now, the rest of the story." At that point, Mr. Harvey delves into whatever bizarre and outlandish events have led these poor citizens down the path that found them as fodder for his piece, usually ending in something so wholly unbelievable that you wonder if it could actually be true. The rest of this particular story, I assure you, is true.

Yesterday I told the tale of Avery and her recent approach with regard to the Tooth Fairy. What I left out, however, is an entirely different animal. There was an interaction with me the night before the Fairy's arrival that, unbeknown to me, had led Avery to revise her plan of attack. As I explained yesterday, Avery lost her tooth on Tuesday night as she was brushing her teeth. That was the point at which she had scrawled the first note to the Tooth Fairy, and she showed it to us when she was finished. In an attempt to soften the blow of her disappointment, I rationalized why the Fairy might not do what she had requested. This was my subtle attempt at suspending her disbelief, as it were, but I did not expect what she did next.

Apparently daunted by my rationalizations, Avery proceeded to scale down her expectations and wrote a brand new letter to the Tooth Fairy. I guess she figured if she lowered the bar, there would be a better chance of getting anything at all, which was the ultimate goal of the communication in the first place. Even if she just drew a picture of herself, that alone would prove her existence. But as I said, I was unaware of the second letter's existence. Yesterday, after reading my post, Mandi asked me why I hadn't included it. I had seen the note on Ave's dresser when the Tooth Fairy came during Wednesday night's shower, but in my haste to get out of there unseen I simply assumed she had made herself a copy of the old letter. I took the old letter off of her dresser, left her the money but took the tooth, and high-tailed it out of there. Now, knowing all of the circumstances, I can see why Avery was disappointed about the visit. She thought she had thrown the old note away, so she thinks the Tooth Fairy has no note. On the positive side, I suppose that will make the hand-written letter from the Fairy I solicited from a family member seem that much more of a surprise when it arrives. Without further ado, here is the second note, both transcribed and in its original form, for your enjoyment.
Dear Tooth Fairy,
I would like to ask you some questions. Now here they are: where do you get all the money? Why do you give some children less or more money than me? If grownups lose teeth do you take them? Do you take some animals teeth? How old are you? Do you have a mom or a dad or are you just the only tooth fairy? How many houses do you go to almost every night? Is there a few tooth fairies like one in China and you here and everything? How many tooth fairies are there? Can you have babys? I can't think of anything elss, so can you wright other things about you? So can you do that? I'll put paper on my desk. The one that is in my room so you remember.

p.s. Can you please still let me keep my tooth but still give me those coins?

p.p.s. Can you please draw a picher of yourself?


And that, as they say, is the rest of the story.