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Home
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Purim and the Tooth-Fairy
by Risa Rotman
It's that season again. Not Purim itself, that's a whole
another megilla on its own. Rather the pre-Purim
season, when plans for costumes start. It's a sign of aging,
that I'm less enthusiastic than ten years ago. The thought of
running around to find the right material or accessories
makes my head spin, when I'm just trying to keep on top of
the laundry and provide nutritious meals for our large
household. Still, I have to admit, that the kids' excitement
is somewhat contagious, and so as long as I'm organized and
can plan in advance, I don't mind getting caught up in the
fun.
In the past, I've come up with some rather nice costumes.
Most were pretty standard, but they had our own special
flavor. One year, we dressed up our dark-haired, dark-
skinned, dark eyed son as an Indian. He looked smashing!
Several years later, when his younger, blond-haired, blue-
eyed brother used the same costume, it didn't look quite the
same. A different costume was composed of the burlap bag from
our Pesach potatoes from the year before. I had saved it just
for this expressed purpose and dressed my oldest son up as a
sack of potatoes, warning everyone that Pesach was just
around the corner. Everyone thought it was adorable, except
for my son, who was less impressed.
My girls have also had their share of costumes, standard and
less so. We've gone through the usual gamut of Queen Esthers
and Kallahs like everyone else, but as the girls got older,
we managed to create some more original costumes. Once, an
Israeli neighbor pointed out that a certain dress would make
a lovely Queen of the Night. I changed it to Queen of the New
Moon. We used an old, fancy, black dress with silver spray
paint. Decorated it with moon and stars all around, a simple
silver crown with black tulle and we were in business.
My favorite costume wasn't so much work, but big on thought.
I dressed my daughter Zehava, which of course comes from the
word zohov (gold) in a simple hand-made, gold skirt
and shawl. Across her shoulder I made her a banner that said
the posuk from Tehillim 45: Kol k'vudah bas melech
penimah, mimishbetzos zahav levusha. (The King's daughter
is all honor within; her clothes are inlaid with gold.) I
must admit everyone loved it, this time even my daughter.
I, myself as a child, never dressed up in anything very
elaborate. A fancy dress from one of my older brother's bar
mitzvas, a crown made from cardboard and tinfoil, and lots of
junken jewelry (as it was known in our house), and there I
was, Queen Esther, year after year. One Purim, one of my
older brother's decided that out of a sense of originality, I
should tell everyone I was Vashti. That was about as original
as it got.
One year though, I did get a chance to dress myself up with
flair. A special gathering gave me the opportunity to join a
Purim party, the first year that my husband and I were
married. For some reason, I had decided to dress up as the
Tooth Fairy. I had it all worked out in my mind. A few white
sheets wrapped around my clothes, a white tichel, and
an oversized necklace with different shaped teeth hanging
from it, maybe a few tooth-shaped business cards. I thought
it was great. My new husband was less enthusiastic. He
thought it was goyish and made his opinion very
clear.
"If I prove to you, that the Tooth Fairy really is Jewish,
will you let me go to the party dressed in my costume?" I
half-pleaded, half-requested.
"Ok, fine. If you can prove that the Tooth Fairy is Jewish,
then you can keep your costume," he agreed, thinking that I
would never be able to accomplish this act.
"Well," I said hesitantly, "when I was about six years old, I
lost one of my first teeth. We were staying at my Bubby and
Zaidy's house and it was Rosh Hashannah. I told my mother
that my tooth had fallen out and that the next day I would
get a quarter from the Tooth Fairy. My mother bent down, so
that we would be eye level and said to me in all seriousness,
`I'm sorry Risa, the Tooth Fairy is Jewish and won't be
working on Rosh Hashannah. You'll have to wait until the
holiday is over.' I looked up at my husband shyly
triumphant.
He looked at me with bewildered amusement, sighed and finally
said, "O.K. you win. The Tooth Fairy is Jewish and you can
wear your costume."
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